Restoration
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This is a The Rookie story that starts after episode 2 season 2. It will most likely become AU as the season progresses. John is working on his house, detecting skills, and relationship with Jessica, and trying his best not to think about Grace. Cover image by Artifex Prime.
1. Chapter 1

Restoration

Chapter 1

"I'm surprised you're on Lucy's couch," Nolan comments, changing out of his coveted short-sleeved uniform. You could move in with me. My house is big enough so you could have your own room - rent-free. All you'd have to do is help with the rehab. Detective Armstrong has put his hand to it. He survived."

Jackson pulls an L.A.P.D. hoodie over his head. "I appreciate the offer, man, but I prefer rooms with walls. And Gino has an allergy to dust. I can't have that stuff all over me."

"I get it. Jessica's not a fan of a work in progress either, but I can see the finished house in my mind, you know? And everything is going to be done right. Solid construction, not just slapping up some drywall. Enough insulation to keep the place cool enough so that I don't spend a fortune on air conditioning. Double-pane glass, resilient flooring. I built my last house with my own hands, but I had to make Sarah happy. I can make this one exactly the way I want it. I love being a cop, but swinging a hammer is a constructive way of working out the frustrations of the job. Anyway, if you change your mind, the offer stands."

"Thanks, Nolan. I appreciate it."

John thinks about going by the hospital to see Grace, and immediately dismisses the idea. He got his apology out, and there's really nothing else to say. And Jessica's words about falling in love with him are rattling around in his head. It's been a long time since anyone said anything like that to him - not since he first tied up with Sarah. In the two weeks he'd been with Grace, the sexual attraction had been overwhelming, and love might have come out of it, but he never had a chance to find out. Jess has been working long hours trying to track down the origin of a terrorist cell, but she may be available later. And he has more than enough to keep him busy. He needs to get started on the kitchen. A man can only subsist on so much beer and takeout pizza, and he'd love to be able to lure Jess with a home-cooked meal. He has the appliances he wants on order, and the subflooring is in good shape, but he needs to put in the thickly cushioned vinyl that he can stand on without further abusing back and feet already strained to the max by the job. And he'll need to build the cabinetry too.

* * *

John's absorbed enough in his work that he almost doesn't hear the sound of the back door opening. It shouldn't be. He locked it, and no one has a key. He hasn't even had a chance to mail one off to Henry. Checking that he has his handcuffs, and with his gun in hand, he spots two men with hacksaws. "Police! Drop the saws, kneel on the floor, and put your hands behind your heads."

"Oh sh*t!" a tattooed invader exclaims. "This place was supposed to be deserted."

"And it would have been just as illegal to break in if it was," John informs him before cuffing them and droning the Miranda warning. "But you wouldn't have made out anyway. I would assume by the saws that you were here to steal pipe for recycling. The joke would have been on you. It's galvanized junk, so clogged up with mineral deposits that I'm in the process of replacing it with copper anyway. If you'd broken in a couple of weeks later, you might have made a haul."

"Crap," John's two prisoners mutter in unison.

"Not in my house, but you'll get your chance to do that at the station," John assures them, pulling out his phone to call dispatch. Damn, he isn't going to get to see Jess tonight.

* * *

"Officer Nolan managed to stumble into a solid arrest," Grey announces at roll call. "The two men who broke into that wreck he calls a house are part of a ring that's been raiding unoccupied buildings for whatever they can salvage. They were more than happy to throw their compatriots under the bus. We should see some further arrests and a reduction in property damage in the area."

"Actually, Sir, the arrest stumbled into me," Nolan corrects, "But I'm happy my wreck could serve a useful purpose."

"As a reward, Officer Nolan, you will be teaming up with Detective Armstrong again today, but I will be rotating your assignments until we have a replacement for Officer Bishop. I'm sure you'll all be glad to hear that she is doing well at the ATF. Now get out of here, but be careful out there.

* * *

"What are we looking for?" Nolan asks as Armstrong slides into the passenger seat of their unit.

"Car thieves, filling orders for a chop shop."

John frowns as he steers the vehicle out to the street. "A piece of slime from that ring beat up my best friend, when he stole his car. I thought we took it down."

"Different operation. We're always playing whack-a-mole, Nolan. You take one out, another one springs up to fill the void. There's always a market for cheap parts."

"What if there wasn't?" John wonders.

Armstrong's eyebrow rises. "What are you thinking about, Nolan?"

"A marketplace. Some guy trying to fix his car isn't going to knock on the door of a chop shop. They don't hang signs over the door. He - or she - I've met a few single moms who learned how to patch their kidmobiles together - would go to an auto parts store or a junkyard. We bust the retailers, and the thieves wouldn't have anywhere to sell their merchandise."

Armstrong strokes the bristles on his chin. "You might have a point, Nolan. Assuming we launched an investigation of illicit auto part sales, how would you go about it?"

"Stakeout somewhere people come looking for bargains, where they wouldn't ask too many questions about used parts. We determine a likely seller," John proposes, "go in wearing plain clothes, ask for something for an older car, and check out what we get."

"And what would be your first choice for a stakeout?"

"Parts Unlimited. I've been there before and not in uniform. Lucy - Officer Chen - has a car that's seen better days. I helped her fix it. And the place is next door to a huge parking lot. One car, more or less, wouldn't draw any notice."

"All right," Armstrong agrees, "swing by your place and pick up the clothes you need to look convincing. I have a T-shirt and jeans in my locker. We'll requisition an unmarked shop and see what we see. If Parts Unlimited has a steady stream of likely buyers, you can make your pitch, and we'll trace whatever parts you come back with. And let's check if any of my doughnuts are left in the break room. It could be a long, hungry day."

Nolan's eyes blaze as he spots a familiar figure carrying a box in the back door of Parts Unlimited. "That sonofabitch!"

Armstrong's eyes follow John's gaze. "You recognize him?"

"Yeah. He's the guy who mashed in my friend Ben's face - and just for the hell of it too. Ben handed over the keys. That bastard could have just taken the car. We busted him, but Wolf let him go in exchange for a bigger fish. I'll be damned if I'm going to watch him slip the hook again.


	2. Chapter 2

Restoration

Chapter 2

The clerk with Felix embroidered on his shirt grins at Nolan. "Working on the lady's car again?"

"Nope, I've got it running like a top," Nolan claims. "I'm rebuilding a '69 Mustang for my son." He inclines his head at Armstrong. "My buddy here is helping me out. We need a wiring harness."

Felix shoves his shaggy hair off his forehead. "Beautiful machine, but that's a rare part, man. I'm going to have to put out a call for it."

Nolan and Armstrong exchange looks. "I understand," Nolan responds, "but I want that car to be cherry." Nolan scribbles on a sales flyer. "This is my number, Felix. Can you call me when you get a line on the harness?"

"Sure, man," Felix acknowledges, "and I'll try to get you a good deal."

Nolan holds out his hand to shake. "Thanks, Pal, you're the best."

"Why the 1969 Mustang wiring harness?" Armstrong asks on the way back to their unmarked shop.

"The '69 Mustang is a great car. My father had one. He was always working on it while I was growing up, but he had to sell it when the parts became too expensive. I checked. I could get that harness online today, but it would run me close to 900 bucks. I figure that if Felix didn't tell me that, he'll try to sell me a stolen part, especially since he's offering me a 'deal.'"

Armstrong opens the driver's side door of the car. "Good thinking, but chances are it's going to take at least until tomorrow for the chop shop to put out an order for a '69 Mustang and get one in - maybe longer. Might as well use the night to kick back while we can, unless you're planning to work on your house some more."

"No, but I have other plans."

* * *

"You're planning to heat the floor of the bathroom?" Jessica asks incredulously. "The only time I can have a luxury like that is when I take a spa weekend."

"The heating mat goes under the floor, so usually unless you're building a new house, you have to tear things up quite a bit to put one in, especially with tiles. But the floor in the master bathroom is such a wreck, I was planning to replace it anyway. So I figured why not go the extra step. I'm going to heat the mirror too, so it won't fog while I'm shaving."

Jessica wraps her arms around his waist. "Sounds like it's going to be great, but what did you have planned for tonight?"

"I thought we could take a walk on the beach. I can still use that private stretch in front of Ben's place. Then we can have a moonlight picnic, and when the ocean breeze picks up, figure out how to make our own heat. No demolition required."

* * *

"Ow!" Jessica winces, dropping her shoes on the sand and wobbling while examining her bare foot.

John reaches out to steady her. "What happened?"

"I cut myself. There must have been a broken shell or something in the sand."

John kneels, creating a seat for her on his knee. "Let me see. That's a bad gash, Jess, and it's full of grit." He scoops her up in his arms. "I'm going to take you to the emergency room to get it checked. If that isn't cleaned out, it could get infected, and you might need stitches."

* * *

Grace glances across the ER, at the intern doing a little stitch work, and realizes that John Nolan is watching intently as the young doctor works on his patient. She recognizes the woman. She was the agent who demanded to speak to an unconscious witness, the one John ended up guarding. John obviously isn't on duty, not in shorts and a T-shirt. He looks seriously concerned about the agent's minor injury - or maybe just serious about the agent.

Grace is ready to kick herself for feeling a twinge of jealousy. It's stupid. John is involved, and she isn't divorced - yet. After more than a year, she doesn't expect to get back together with her husband, but she's not ready to subject her son to the trauma of the final legal proceedings either.

Up to this point, Grace hasn't minded being in limbo. She's even preferred it. Between taking care of her son and doing her job at the hospital, she has little time to spare for romantic interests. Still, seeing John and hearing the apology pour out of him the way it did, triggered longings she hadn't felt in - if she's honest with herself - the 20 years since John's note left her hurt, angry, but wanting.

She strides across the room - just to check the work of the doctor in her charge. Uh-huh."

Jessica looks up at Grace, noting the look that passes between the blond physician and John. She's seen that before - history - but the sparks are still there. "Everything going well here, Dr. Ralston?" Grace inquires.

"Yes, Ma'am. I was able to cleanse the wound and close the laceration."

Grace examines the sutures. "Good work, Ralston." She smiles reassuringly at Jessica. "Try to stay off that for a few days. We'll give you some crutches. You'll have a scar, but on the bottom of your foot, that shouldn't be an issue."

John smooths back Jessica's dark hair. "I'm really sorry."

"John, you didn't put the shell on the beach, and you didn't tell me to take off my sandals, either. I can run an investigation from my desk for a little while - make my guys move their butts."

"You've haven't had any trouble doing that, that I've seen. When you're ready, I'll take you home - to my home. You won't have to worry about stairs, and I can get you anything you need. We can stop at your place and pick up whatever you like."

"Is that an order, Rookie?"

"Consider it a fervent request from someone desperately trying to assuage his guilt."

Jessica reaches up to stroke his face. "All right, John. If you insist on assuming guilt that doesn't exist, I'll help you cope with it. But there better not be any plaster dust in the bed."

"Didn't you notice? The place is almost white-glove clean. I installed air filtration in the air conditioning system. I'll be hosing off the filter pretty often until I finish getting things fixed up, but you won't find dust in the bed - or anywhere else."

"When you were in construction, you must have been every homeowner's dream."

"Yeah, except the one I was married to."

Even having moved on to the next patient, Grace can hear the exchange. She isn't sure whether to feel anger or sympathy for John, maybe a little of both. He left her to go back to Sarah and do the right thing. He hasn't changed. John has always been "Mr. Fixit," trying to solve everyone's problems. For a cop, it's a trait that could lead to exhaustion and burnout. She's seen it in some of the law enforcement officers that have come through her ERs over the years. But most of them were able to stay at arms-length from the pain they encountered on the job. She doubts that John will be able to. Not the John that she knew. She's never been able to either. They both feel too much. And when they felt it together, it was like a nuclear reactor going critical - powerful but dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

Restoration

Chapter 3

"Do you need anything before I go?" John asks. "I have to make it to roll call, even if I'm going to be working with Detective Armstrong."

"John, you already brought me breakfast in bed. French toast from hamburger buns, very creative."

"Not really. It was the only bread-like thing I had in the house."

"Anyway, I'll be fine," Jessica insists. "I have my laptop. I can work from here for a while. One of the other agents is coming by to pick me up later. Don't make Wade - Sergeant Grey - write you up for being late."

"You two have known each other for a long time, haven't you?"

"I knew his wife first. We were roomies for a while. But yeah, we've been friends for years, which is why I know he doesn't like having to write people up for being late. So move that muscular butt of yours."

Nolan salutes. "Yes, Ma'am, but here's a key to this place. You should be able to come and go when you need to."

Jessica rubs the cool surface of the metal between her fingers. "Be safe, John."

* * *

"Officer Nolan," Grey announces, "Detective Armstrong has requested your presence on a stakeout. I believe you know the details. Today we are expecting something that many of you may periodically forget exists - rain. As you know, many drivers in this area are far from skilled in dealing with wet pavement, so we can expect a higher level of accidents. Be prepared to render any assistance necessary and control traffic.

"Also, I believe that congratulations are in order to Officer West for finding a permanent domicile." Hoots sound from the back of the room as Lucy starts the applause. "OK, settle down. Remember that visibility today will be as limited for you as for the other drivers on the road - so be extra careful out there."

* * *

Nolan squints through the rain-spattered windshield of Armstrong's vehicle, parked at the far edge of the lot of Parts Unlimited. Hard to make out who's coming and going, but we haven't seen anyone bringing anything into the store. Not that many customers buying something, either. You think anyone will be stealing cars on a day like this?"

"I think this may be exactly the day when someone will be stealing cars," Armstrong opines. "People settle in, either at work or at home and drive as little as possible. Not many people will be looking out windows or walking around outside. The parked cars on the street or in garages and driveways might as well have welcome signs in their windows. The chop shop may have your Mustang in already. If not, it won't be long. This place could have your part before closing tonight, or first thing in the morning."

Nolan fingers his phone.

"Thinking of checking on Jessica again?" Armstrong asks.

"I probably shouldn't. She's at DHS now, and she has a case to work on. She doesn't need me bothering her. She can take care of herself."

"I'm sure she can," Armstrong agrees, "but most ladies appreciate knowing that someone cares."

"You're right. I can text her. That way, she doesn't have to answer me until she has a minute."

"Wait, do you see that?" Armstrong asks.

"That's the sonofabitch Gannon who beat up Ben. That box is covered in plastic, so I can't tell what's in it, but it's probably parts. Should we follow him when he comes out?"

"We should," Armstrong decides. "Felix will call you when he's ready to sell you your harness. If Gannon heads back to the chop shop, we could get the location and the evidence in time for you to play mother hen tonight. He's coming out. Call it in."

* * *

Despite being wet, Andrew Gannon is feeling pretty good. A '69 Mustang is no Lamborghini, but it was worth a nice payday. Playing errand boy to deliver parts to the front is not his favorite part of the job, but it keeps him on the list to fill more contracts. He could use a beer, but he has to bring his chit from Felix back to the shop first. Fargo doesn't know that Gannon flipped on his previous employer, but he doesn't trust anyone. It doesn't matter, Andrew can throw down a few later, maybe even find a lay. There's nothing like flashing a little cash around to attract the kind of female attention he likes. He gets his rocks off with no strings and no complications.

Nolan points through the windshield at the barnlike building where Gannon's van is heading. "That must be it. It's big enough to house the cars and the operation, and with those automatic bay doors, they can drive the vehicles in and have them hidden within seconds."

"Good guess, Nolan," Armstrong acknowledges. "The rain is letting up. If we watch for a while, we may be able to use a zoom to get pictures of stolen cars entering the premises. If we get a match on a plate, we've got probable cause for a warrant. Then if Felix calls you, we can run simultaneous operations to bust the shop and Parts Unlimited, so the roaches can't scurry back into the walls."

* * *

Nolan has been holding a camera at ready for a half-hour when he hears the roar of a powerful engine. He checks for the source. "Armstrong, that's a Maserati!"

"Then get ready to snap some high powered pics, Nolan."

* * *

Jessica gazes at John as he sips a beer. "I can't figure out if you look more tired or self-satisfied."

"I think they're running neck and neck. We got Gannon, Jess. The bastard that beat up Ben isn't going to get another get-out-of-jail-free card. And we took down a sizable chop operation too. I am a little sorry that I had to arrest Felix, the clerk at Parts Unlimited. He didn't hurt anyone and he always got me the parts I needed. Next time I fix up a car, I'll probably have to go to the junkyard, but I think I've still got enough around here to keep me busy. I've got a lot of work to do on the den and the extra bedroom. And I haven't even started on the garage or the landscaping. So what have you been doing today?"

"I'm not sure yet, but we may have a break on the cell."

"Then we can celebrate my success and tentatively celebrate yours. What's your pleasure? Eat out or eat in?"

"My treat and I already ordered, John, while you were in the shower."

"Pizza or Chinese?" John asks.

"Neither one. A curl up together comfort feast: roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and apple pie. But it won't be delivered for about 45 minutes."

John puts his beer on a nearby table. I'm sure we can find a way to pass the time."

"I'm sure we can," Jessica agrees.

* * *

Nyla Harper checks out the details of her new uniform. After years undercover, it will be more than a little strange putting one on again. She could have gone anywhere, had any assignment, but she's signed on to be a training officer at Mid-Wilshire. At least she'll be near her son. And she can really use the extra money. She just hopes the rookie she gets stuck with is worth training.


	4. Chapter 4

Restoration

Chapter 4

Nolan winces as Jessica snuggles into his chest. She lightly fingers an angry purple splotch. "Did you get this checked out, John? Even when a bullet doesn't penetrate your vest, it can do some damage."

"Yeah, a doctor at the E.R. looked at it and told me nothing was broken and to ice it."

"And did you?"

"For a while. I haven't had much time. I had to take care of my end of the paperwork for the bust, and I had work to do around here."

"You always have work to do around here. This place is going to be a never-ending project."

"But you are going to get the shoe rack you wanted," he reminds her.

Jessica props herself up on her elbow. "Let me guess. The ER doctor was Grace Sawyer. She must have enjoyed taking care of you."

"She didn't have the chance. Ralston, the same doctor who sewed up your foot, looked at me. Grace had some bad guys with bullets in them to deal with. I would think that keeping them alive long enough to get information out of them would be tops on your list."

"Are we talking about the information I wanted from that undercover agent?"

"Yeah, we are," John admits. "I know you're passionate about your work, but it seemed - a little cold."

"I guess to the incredibly warm-hearted John Nolan, that is inevitable. But you know that I do whatever must be done, whatever it takes."

"Yeah, I do."

"And speaking of that," Jessica continues. "I'm getting around better, and I'll have an assignment out of town for a while."

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know. That's the job, John."

"Right. Sure, Jess. I understand."

* * *

Henry waves a hand in front of John's face. "Dad, hello! Where are you?"

"Oh! Sorry, Henry, Abigail. I was just thinking - it doesn't matter. Tonight should be about you two. We should celebrate. There's a karaoke place where I recognize almost none of the music, but Lucy and Jackson like it. They might even be singing tonight. We could go there - or to the beach, unless you'd like to see some touristy stuff like the footprints and handprints at Grauman's Chinese."

"Actually, Dad," Henry interjects, "we thought - Abigail thought - that we might help you work on this place."

"I'm good with painting over graffiti," Abigail offers, smiling crookedly. "I learned how doing my community service."

Nolan clears his throat. "All right. If that's what you want. I already have the paint and the rollers. Covering the graffiti is one of the things on my ever-expanding to-do list. We can do it together."

* * *

Lucy signals Nolan to a corner of the locker room. "Luce, roll call is in five minutes. We don't have much time."

"I know, but I wanted to tell you that Jackson confessed that he knew about us from the beginning. He just didn't say anything."

"Wow, I wonder who else knew, besides Bishop. Harper figured out that Dr. Sawyer and I have a history just by seeing us talk to each other. I guess it doesn't matter now."

"Except that Jackson wants to hook me up with someone he thinks will be good for me."

"I thought you were just going to concentrate on being a cop - and matchmaking for Bradford."

"I was. I am, and Bradford and Rachel are doing fine. But Jackson might say something to you, maybe ask if Jessica has any friends. Just say you don't know."

"Outside the professional realm, I don't. She's devoted to her work too. Hey! We've only got two minutes to get to our seats. We can talk later."

* * *

Grey takes his place in front of the room. "Somehow, Nolan, Chen, and West have all managed to secure confidential informants. And special congratulations to Nolan and Harper for providing a lead into human trafficking by a cartel. But that was yesterday. Today we have a new problem. As I'm sure you all know, the high winds have been spreading fires in Northern California. In a so-far unsuccessful effort to prevent sparking new ones, PG&E has initiated rolling blackouts up there. Those are moving south and now will include L.A.

You can expect thieves and looters to take advantage of the situation. Alarms may or may not go off. The shutdown may also cause false ones. With the loss of fans and air conditioners, tempers will flare. That will mean an increase in domestic violence. As traffic lights go out, there will be an uptick in violations and collisions. I doubt that I have to tell you that aiding victims and clearing accident sites will take priority.

Local hospitals will be operating on generators if necessary and will be prepared for an increased patient load. Let's try to minimize their burden. The first outage is scheduled for an hour from now and will affect about half the area of our division. As much as possible, concentrate your efforts in high-risk zones. That's it, now go out there and be careful.

Harper snorts as she slides behind the wheel of the shop. "Traffic control, that's sh*t duty."

"It can save lives," Nolan points out. "Isn't that what we're out here for?"

Rolling her eyes, Nyla shakes her head. "There's the guardian again. Bring back the warrior, Nolan."

"I will when it's called for. Right now, I'm more interested in keeping the peace. At least I don't have to worry about my house. Before I got the electrical system hooked up to the grid, I brought in a generator. My son and his fiancée are staying there. If the electricity goes out, I'll have power for some of the lights and the refrigerator."

"Too much information," Nyla complains.

"Don't you have anyone you're worried about getting caught without electricity, Harper? You must have been talking to that lawyer specializing in family law about someone."

"What? No."

"You took too long to answer," Nolan observes. "We both know that's a sign you were lying."

"What it's a sign of is that you were asking questions about something that is none of your business. Just concentrate on being a cop."

"Fine, but if you ever decide you want to talk, I'm a good listener."

"I don't know how. You never close your mouth. Our conversations are purely job-related. Got that, Nolan? I don't need a social worker or a bleeding heart."

"Yes, Ma'am, but if you ever change your mind…"

"Nolan, shut it!"

"Shutting it."

* * *

Sissy Layton is wiping down her kitchen counter for the third time that morning. If Creighton sees a speck of dirt or food, she'll hear about it - and feel it. Last time it took weeks for all the bruises to fade and her ribs ached for - damn, they still do.

The only thing that's keeping his attention away from her is his favorite cable news station. As long as it can tell him who to hate, he leaves her alone.

To Sissy, most of what the commentators say is ridiculous. Who would believe that a chain of health food stores is a cover for a terrorist ring, and they are slowly poisoning the population of L.A. with kale? Somehow Creighton does. Sissy wasn't planning on buying kale anyway, and she's staying away from serving any fresh produce, just in case.

Creighton likes his vegetables the way his mother used to make them - out of a can and overcooked. Fine. She can sneak a salad or two at night while he's at work. And she can… Oh, God! The lights are out, and the TV is silent. She dashes out the back door, hoping to reach her cousin's house three blocks away.


	5. Chapter 5

Restoration

Chapter 5

"Do you see that?" Nolan asks, pointing through the windshield. "That woman looks like she's running for her life."

"Not a felony, Nolan," Nyla retorts.

"She could be fleeing from someone attempting to commit one," John argues. "It's not the weather to be out for a run."

Nyla pulls over. "All right, guardian, go check it out."

Nolan's long strides put him out in front of Sissy Layton. "Ma'am, do you need help?"

"Please," Sissy begs, "I just want to get to my cousin's house before he comes after me."

"Who comes after you?" John prompts as gently as he can.

"My husband, Creighton."

"Ma'am, if he's hurting you, that's a crime. I can arrest him."

"No," Sissy pleads. "You don't understand. He controls everything, the bank account, the credit cards, every cent we have. The house is in his name too. I can only stay with my cousin for a little while. She has kids and a mother to take care of. If you take Creighton away, I'll have nothing and no place to go. Just leave me alone. When the power comes back on, he'll have his TV back. As long as he can watch it, I'll be fine."

"All right, Ma'am," Nolan agrees reluctantly, digging in his pocket for a card, "but if he makes a move to hurt you, or if you decide you've had enough, call this number. There are shelters for abused women and people who will help you build a life for yourself - separate from your husband. Think about it."

Sissy tucks the card into the pocket of her apron. "I have to go."

Nyla gazes at the retreating figure. "She's going to end up dead."

"Maybe not. Maybe she'll call."

"And maybe a good fairy will turn her husband into a decent human being. Face it, Nolan, you can't save everyone. There's always another sonofabitch out there trying to prove he has a big one by beating on some woman who is too scared to leave him. We have to move on. I want to check the school to make sure some crazy isn't taking advantage of the chaos to do another Sandy Hook."

"Harper, am I detecting a bit of guardian peeking out?"

"More like a warrior against assholes with assault rifles and more bullets than brains. Move it, Nolan."

* * *

"Looks like the parents are picking up the kids," Nolan observes as Nyla cruises past an elementary school. You want to stop and talk to the guard and make sure that everything's OK?"

Nyla's eyes flick to a man with graying temples ushering a little girl into his car. "No, just take another circuit and we'll make sure everything stays quiet."

Nolan turns into a side street running past a strip mall. Glass is flying from a smashed window. "That's not quiet."

Nyla springs from the car, with John following while reporting looting. "Put them down," she orders a young man with his arms full of video games. "Down on the ground, now!"

The teen draws his arms tighter around his stolen treasure. "Aw come on, Mama. It's only a few games. Can't you go bust a shooter or something?"

"I said down on the ground," Nyla repeats.

John moves in. "You heard her."

The boy grudgingly sinks to his knees, laying the games on the pavement. "You've got them back. Are we done?"

John pulls out his handcuffs. "For you, the trouble is just…"

Rapid gunfire cuts through the air. "Never mind, Nolan. Let's go!" Nyla orders.

Speeding back to the school, Nyla scans the street for her daughter and ex-husband. They're out of there. Thank God. More gunfire is coming from inside, as Nolan is describing the situation to dispatch. Backup will be on the way, but the school is a killing ground. With a high capacity magazine, one shooter can massacre teachers, students, or anyone still left in the building.

Nyla pops the trunk before leaping from behind the wheel. She grabs her AR-15 and shoves a rifle at Nolan. "Don't even think about waiting for backup. We're going in."

"Just for the record," Nolan responds, as they head for the school entrance, "I wasn't considering waiting."

As the sound echoes off the hard walls, it's hard to tell where the gunshots are originating, but they seem to be coming from above. Nyla leads the way up the stairs.

Down the hall, a slight teenager with a stuffed backpack and an assault weapon is pulling open classroom doors searching for victims. "Drop the gun!" Nyla yells.

The boy pivots to face the two officers. "Screw you n***** b****! Bullets spray upward. The teen is still squeezing the trigger as he falls to Nolan's bullet."

Nyla blows air through pursed lips. "Good shot, Nolan. At least Grey gave me a Rookie who can aim."

Nolan sags against the wall, letting his heart rate slowly fall. "You should see me with a nail gun."

* * *

As Nolan lets himself into his house, he catches a whiff of a familiar and very feminine scent. Jessica looks up from a collection of containers of Chinese food she's sharing with Henry and Abigail. "We heard what you did, John. Are you OK?"

"As OK as I can be after shooting someone."

"John, God knows how many innocent kids you've saved."

"Not enough. Twenty kids and two teachers are dead. My T.O. reported that it was a clean shoot, but I'm still on administrative leave."

"Which will give you more time with Henry and Abigail - and me."

"When did you get back?"

"This afternoon, but LAX was closed. I had to fly into Santa Ana and drive up. The traffic was impossible. I was only on the 405 for a couple of hours, but it took me three more to get through the city. Your place was closer than my apartment."

John comes to Jessica as she meets him halfway. Their lips touch briefly before he hugs her tightly against his chest, before turning his attention to Henry and Abigail. How have things been going here?"

"We were fine, Dad," Henry assures his father. "The generator worked great."

"Don't let him snow you, Mr. Nolan," Abigail interjects. "He was going crazy worrying until the news said that the only cop who was shot was the guard."

"Last I heard, it looks like he's going to make it," John reports.

"That's great. Are you hungry, Mr. Nolan?" Abigail asks, holding up a sparerib. "These are really amazing."

"No, thanks, Abigail. You enjoy them. I'm going to catch a shower. Jess, can we talk for a minute, first?"

John leads the way to the bathroom. Jessica reaches up to stroke his roughening cheek. "How are you, really?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my mind is spinning. Jess, those kids! And the shooter was only eight years older than some of the ones he killed. What kind of sickness could drive him to do something like that?"

"I don't know, John, but if it hadn't been for you and Harper, things could have been a lot worse."

"That's not much comfort."

"John, for you, I don't think it ever will be. That's why I keep falling more in love with you."

John draws her against him for a deep kiss. "And here I thought it was my skill at installing shoe racks."


	6. Chapter 6

Restoration

Chapter 6

"John, are you OK?" Grace asks as she removes the stitches from his arm. "You haven't said two words since you've been here. In the time we spent together, I can't remember you being quiet this long except when you were asleep."

"Oh, yeah. Harper is always telling me I talk too much. Bishop did too," Nolan admits.

"I never minded. Sharing your feelings was what I liked about you. That's why it was such a shock when you just wrote me a note when you left. So, why so quiet now?"

"I broke up with Jessica."

"That DHS agent you were dating?"

"Uh-huh. She suddenly decided she wants a kid. I can't handle that right now."

"The ticking clock syndrome."

"The what?"

"Women get to a certain age, time is running out, and they start to wonder if they've missed something. Maybe Jessica has, but you haven't. You spent 20 years raising Henry."

"And wouldn't have missed it for the world. But that doesn't mean I'm ready to do it again. If that's what Jessica wants, she should have it, but she can't have it with me, at least not at this point in my life. I know that's the right thing for both of us."

"But I bet it hurts – a lot more than this knife wound did."

"Yeah, but how about you? What's happening with your separation? Any chance you and your husband will reconcile?"

"I don't think so. He told me he saw a lawyer about filing for divorce."

"Ouch. Been there. Well, misery loves company. I have to go back to the station after I'm finished here. Harper took a personal day, and I'm working at the front desk. I'm off at six. When is your shift over?"

"Seven."

"You want to vent to each other over dinner? Before I bought my fixer-upper, I was renting my old roommate Ben's guest house. He introduced me to some good restaurants. And there's a cop grapevine about decent food."

"There's a doctor's grapevine about restaurants where patients with food poisoning ate."

"Then we can compare notes and eliminate any overlap," John proposes. "Pick you up here?"

"Sure, John. That would be nice."

* * *

Nyla can't remember being this nervous, even on her toughest undercover assignment. As a cop, she shouldn't be scared of a courtroom, but deep undercover, she was kept out of them.

This one is old. The bench and the rails are scarred wood, even if the plastic seats are modern. Donovan is already at a table with his lawyer. Her attorney, Trent Silver, looks up as she joins him. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it. We only have a minute before the hearing is scheduled to start."

"I'm ready," Nyla announces, trying to make herself believe it.

"All rise for the honorable Marina Sanchez," the official announcement rattles from a speaker.

Nyla recognizes Sanchez. She's the same judge who limited her to supervised visitation based on the testimony of Donovan's parents. Nyla can't be too angry at them. Donovan knew she was working undercover, although she was never able to tell him any details. But all the grandparents saw were missed soccer games and a mother who was rarely around to take her daughter to school or tuck her in at night. At least once they had shown up before Nyla was able to slip completely out of character. They were convinced she was an erratic drug addict, and she couldn't tell them any different. At least now, she can reveal the truth.

"Be seated," Sanchez instructs. "Ms. Harper…"

"Detective Harper, your honor," Silver corrects.

"Yes, Detective Harper. I've read your petition," Sanchez continues. "If I understand what you are asserting, your undercover work created a false impression of your character."

"Yes, your honor," Nyla agrees.

"And since you are no longer working undercover, and are assigned to a local division, you feel that your custody and visitation agreement should be reconsidered."

"Yes, your honor."

"Detective Harper, I appreciate your service, but the facts remain. For most of your daughter's life, you have been an absentee parent. And the testimony that you showed questionable behavior in the presence of your daughter is not under dispute. You also fell behind in your mandated support payments. What assurances can you offer this court that you are prepared to take on the considerable daily responsibilities involved in raising a child?"

Silver rises. "Your honor, I've submitted documentation of the counseling my client received, both to overcome the trauma resulting from her work and to enhance her parenting skills. She has earned the highest L.A.P.D. honors and was able to take the assignment of her choice. She's also earning additional pay for acting as a training officer. She is fully committed to providing a loving and secure environment for her daughter."

Sanchez turns to Donovan's lawyer. "What is your client's response?"

"My client is well aware of Detective Harper's good intentions. She has, however, expressed good intentions before, but still appears to be indulging in impulsive if well-meaning behavior. My client is willing to modify the visitation agreement to give Detective Harper more time with their daughter but is hesitant to change the custody arrangements until Detective Harper has proved that she can be relied upon. That would include getting and staying current with her child support obligations."

Sanchez nods. "Very well. I will take the petition and your arguments under advisement and notify counsels of my decision in the matter." Sanchez glances down at her clerk. "Call the next case."

* * *

Grace smiles as John pulls out her chair for her. "No one's done that for me in a while."

"Your husband didn't?"

"Only on our first two dates. After that, we were mostly grabbing takeout. We were both going through our internships, and between studying and our duties at the hospital, we were lucky if we had time to sleep. Things got a little better eventually, but with two different specialties, our schedules still didn't line up very well. And when we started juggling childcare, it became even more difficult. The little things went out the window."

"I understand the time thing. There were years when I wasn't sure my business was going to make it, and I was working 16-18 hours a day just trying to stay afloat. Sarah was pitching in when she could too, and whatever hours or minutes we could spare went to Henry. But we both agreed that was the way it had to be, and when things were better, tried to take some time with each other. But by then, we'd drifted apart a lot," John explains. "We'd started drifting even back when you and I met."

"I know. You mentioned it, in between sessions of heavy breathing. That's one of the reasons I was so shocked when you went back to her."

"We worked really hard to make the best of it. And when we could afford to go somewhere with chairs, I did seat her."

"Ever the white knight."

"Nyla Harper calls me a guardian, but she doesn't mean it as a compliment. She thinks cops should be warriors."

"From what I've seen, John, you're both. You sprang to the defense of that woman in the baby safety class, and even with a slashed arm, you took down the bad guy. There has to be a balance somewhere, but given a choice, I'd come down on the side of a guardian."

"That's good, because I would too," John admits. "To serve and protect, not attack. And speaking of service, we need to get someone over here to take our order. I'm starved."

Grace flashes a grin. "Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

Restoration

Chapter 7

Nolan works his shoulders as he surveys the floor of his bathroom. The work was satisfying. Even if Jessica won't be around to experience the warmth from the heating mat beneath the tiles, it's still a touch of luxury. His mind wanders to Grace, wondering if she'd enjoy it, but he slaps the thought away. He's grateful to have her as a friend, that's all she can be, at least for now.

He wonders about Ellroy and Nell. He forced them to meet face to face, but they both seemed to enjoy it. Ellroy is a strange duck, but he did give John some tips on paint removers that have come in very handy. Ellroy's knowledge of gathering evidence could be helpful, too, as John works toward being a detective. Not that he's made much progress toward that goal lately.

Babysitting a crime scene was very much a rookie assignment. That Grey called him in on his day off made it worse. Grey and Jessica are longtime friends. Could the sergeant be punishing Nolan for breaking up with Jessica? The watch commander made a point of hazing Nolan, but a move like that would just be petty. More likely, Grey was reminding him of his status, despite his success at undercover assignments. That's fair.

John checks his watch. There are still a few hours of daylight left. He can get started figuring out how to do some landscaping for the house. After seeing how much water it took to maintain the vast lawns around Ben's mansion, he could do without putting in grass, but there are other possibilities. He can sketch some of them out and then figure out if he can afford them. His stomach rumbles. But first, a late lunch. The rush at the nearest Chinese restaurant should be long over, and he would love some fried noodles. Egg rolls wouldn't be bad either.

* * *

Dragon Garden only has a couple of customers at tables and no one in line to pick up take out. John is tucking his wallet into his pocket and picking up his enticingly grease-stained bag when a man bursts through the door, pointing a gun. John can see the signs of addiction withdrawal on the gunman's face, and though grasped in two hands, the weapon is unsteady. "Money, now!" the invader demands.

Jian-wa Chang pulls a thin stack of bills from the register. "Here's the money. Just go and leave us alone."

"That's nothing! You must have more somewhere."

"That's all of it," Jian-wa insists. "Everyone pays with credit cards."

The gunman turns his attention on John. "You! Give me your wallet."

"You really don't want me to do that," John replies.

"Your wallet, now!" the gunman demands.

"All right," John agrees, moving toward the gunman wallet in hand, until he gets close enough to snatch the other man's weapon. "Ever seen that move before? You wouldn't believe who the last guy I had to use it on was. They teach it to us at the police academy."

"F**k! You're a cop?"

"I am, and you're under arrest. On your knees, hands behind your head," John orders, desperately hoping his food will still be edible when backup arrives.

* * *

The sun is going down as John circles his house. If he's going to do any sketches of possible landscaping, he's going to have to use a flashlight to do it. That will be awkward at best. He should install some outside lighting, maybe even floodlights. According to the statistics he's learned, light deters crime — except that he seems to be a magnet for it no matter how bright the sun.

He supposes that as a cop, that might be a positive. It ups his arrest rate. But he would have rather had a quiet lunch - or an early dinner. At least with the time difference between California and Pennsylvania, it's not a bad time to call Henry.

With Thanksgiving approaching, John is feeling nostalgic for family celebrations. The house where he carved a turkey for Henry and Sarah and whatever friends and family could make it to Clarion County for the holiday is gone, but maybe he can put something together in this one.

Henry and Abigail will be with Sarah. John can understand that. But he can still do a Friendsgiving. Grace will probably be at loose ends, and there's Ellroy, who is starving for company. He could even invite Nell. Hell, he can give invitations to everyone. He can jerry-rig as big a table as he needs, and he's just about figured out how all the bells and whistles on the new appliances in his kitchen work.

In Pennsylvania, John bought fresh turkeys raised on Amish farms. He's sure some trendy market must sell them in L.A. He can make the rest of the dinner a potluck. John gives a little shudder. Hopefully, Ellroy won't breathe on the side dishes the way he did on his sandwich. John will make his call to Henry, and then he'll start planning.

* * *

"Are you going to Nolan's Friendsgiving?" Jackson asks Lucy.

Lucy flops down on the couch. "I don't know. When I was little, my mother tried to do Thanksgiving a couple of times, but cooking has never been her thing. It isn't my father's either. Most years the three of us went out to a restaurant. My mother usually made reservations two months in advance. But the way she and my father were fighting this year, I don't know if she planned anything. And since they're going through the making-up process, they don't need a third wheel if they do go out. I was thinking of buying a bucket of wings, making guacamole, and watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV. I love the balloons."

"So do I," Jackson agrees, "but I thought I'd go to Nolan's place. Things are better between my parents and me, but they still get awkward. And my brother is going to be with his girlfriend, so he won't be available as a referee."

"Well, if you're going, I might too," Lucy considers, "unless Grey puts us on duty. I heard that at least one Rookie has to be on for Thanksgiving Day. Nolan will probably be off because Harper has her golden ticket perks, so she won't have to work."

* * *

"I know we never have before, but Donovan, can we do Thanksgiving as a family?" Nyla begs.

"Nyla, you're pushing it," Donovan retorts. "You've got more visitation. That should be enough. I've done my best to make Thanksgiving special for our daughter. I don't watch football. I get up at six in the morning to get the turkey ready. We watch the specials together and talk about all the things we have to be thankful for. Some years, when you were running around, God knows where doing God knows what, it hasn't been easy. So now you just want to come waltzing in and change the whole routine. And what if you don't show up? I get to pick up the pieces."

"I'll show up," Nyla promises. I'll even bake cookies."

Donovan snorts. "You know how to bake cookies?"

"Nell, that's our dispatcher, gave me a lesson. She showed me how to keep them from burning on the bottom. Nolan gave me a few tips too. He said he used to provide snacks for his son's Soccer games. Donovan, I can make this work if you give me a chance."

"Fine, Nyla. You can come for Thanksgiving dinner — for a couple of hours. But so help me, God, if you disappoint our daughter, hell will freeze over before you can expand your visitation again."


	8. Chapter 8

Restoration

Chapter 8

The scent of sage beats the smell of self-leveling cement that's haunted John's house since his last flooring job. The turkey will be roasting for a few more hours, which will give him more than enough time to set up. He'd originally intended to put doors across sawhorses to accommodate the gang who agreed to show up, but he spotted a beautiful old table in the window of a used furniture store. It was perfect, except for the lack of leaves. He cut some to fit and made sure they joined smoothly. It shouldn't take him long to do the final assembly. He found chairs too, but they'll need a final cleaning and polishing.

Grace said she'd be bringing table settings; wedding presents she'd barely used. She's bringing a tablecloth with a similar backstory, too. It will cover the leaves. Eventually, he plans to stain and finish them to match the table, but to do it well will consume days.

John had been hoping to meet Grace's son, Oliver, but she explained that the boy will be spending Thanksgiving with her soon-to-be-ex and his parents. It may be just as well. With that many cops around the table, the conversation could take a turn unfit for 8-year-old ears.

Lord only knows what Ellroy will want to talk about. The man is fascinating and sweet but has no filter that John's been able to detect. Nell doesn't seem to mind. John supposes that as a dispatcher, there's not much she hasn't heard. From what Ellroy's told him, the pair have met for coffee, or at least herbal tea, a couple of times, and Ellroy's been working up to asking Nell out for dinner.

John will be providing the turkey and the stuffing, as well as sparkling cider and cranberry sauce — the jellied kind. Before giving up and pulling the list from his pocket, he tries to mentally go through what everyone has promised to bring. There are dishes he doesn't recognize, but in L.A., that's no surprise. The array of cuisines is more extensive than anything he experienced in Pennsylvania, even in college.

If nothing else, the table will be full, the basic requirement for a Thanksgiving feast. Jackson said he'd be bringing a karaoke machine, and he and Lucy would be providing after-dinner music. John suspects they'll try to persuade him to take the mic. He might if they ever come up with a song he recognizes. That would be easier with a beer or two, but many of the people at the table, including him, could get called in for emergency duty at any time, and they can't afford to have any alcohol in their bloodstreams.

John is amazed that none of the rookies are on duty already. He might think that it's Grey's way of apologizing for the scut work he's heaped on them, but Grey doesn't apologize. More likely, the break is in consideration for Lopez and Bradford. She's going to a fancy dinner with Wesley's folks, and Tim and Rachel will be coming to John's shindig.

Also, the day is young. A call could come later when fans start flowing out of the sports bars where they gather to watch the Bears and the Lions or the Saints and the Falcons, or overstuffed diners start angrily storming out of celebrations gone south. Over 400 people are expected to die over the holiday period, many from alcohol-related motor vehicle crashes. It's a statistic John could do without.

John's doorbell rings just as he finishes inspecting the warm glow his careful buffing brought out on his final chair. He can see Grace's car in his driveway. She's early, but that's a happy surprise. As he grabs a box of dishes from Grace's trunk, gold-rimmed fine china pokes through the protective wrappings. "These are beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat on."

"And too breakable to be around an active little boy. I think I set the table with them exactly twice, once when I was pregnant with Oliver and once when he was still in a high chair. After that, I had to pack them away in favor of dishes that were either unbreakable or cheap to replace. What did you and Sarah do about your wedding china with Henry running around?"

"It wasn't exactly a problem. The only person we got a wedding gift from was Ben, and that was cash," John confides. "We wouldn't have been able to put down a deposit on an apartment without it. Even so, until I got settled in my new construction job, we were eating off paper plates on the floor."

"Why didn't your parents help out?" Grace wonders.

"My parents, especially my father, were so pissed off at me for knocking Sarah up and dropping out of school, they weren't even talking to me. Sarah's parents weren't much better. They were disappointed in her and furious at me."

"John, I'm sorry. I had no idea. I was so mad when you left I didn't think about what you were taking on."

"I didn't either," John confesses. "I had no clue what it would mean to be a father and support a family. It was strictly on the job training. But Sarah's parents started to come around when Henry was born. I think Sarah's mother couldn't resist buying baby clothes and stuffed toys. Henry ended up with a lot of both.

"My parents sent him birthday and Christmas cards and gifts when he was old enough to appreciate them, but they only thawed out toward Sarah and me after he started college. I don't know how well they're going to take his engagement to Abigail. Henry said he'd tell them, and I don't know if he's done it yet. I haven't heard any explosions from Pennsylvania yet, so I'm guessing he hasn't. How do your parents feel about Oliver?"

"Typical doting grandparents. Too many toys and I have to work hard to make sure they keep him to my rules when he's with them. His paternal grandparents aren't bad either, at least to Oliver. The only thing they've said to me since the separation is asking me to put Oliver on the phone."

"At least there won't be any family stress today," John offers while starting to unpack the dishes. "Everyone is coming just to have a good time — and check out my progress on the house. Speaking of which, you've never been here before. You could look at pictures of what it was like when I rescued it from demolition and I could show you around so you can see how the rehab is going."

Grace's eyes sweep over the recently patched walls. "I'd like that a lot, John. Thanks. You were always good with your hands. Oops! Sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn't mean to go there."

"It's fine," John assures her. "I remember those days — too well. Listen, I'll get the pictures, and we can get started. It won't take long. The place isn't even as big as Ben's guest house. But at least it's mine. And fixing it up, I feel more like myself than I have since I came to L.A."

"I get it, John. As devoted as you are to serving and protecting, sometimes you need to do something for yourself."

John sighs. "You do understand."

"Sure. With everything that comes at me in the OR, I feel that way sometimes too. So, give me the grand tour."

With a flourish, John points toward the next room. "Right this way."


	9. Chapter 9

Restoration

Chapter 9

Grace smiles as Nolan grabs the ends of her tablecloth, and they fold it together. "This was fun, John. And the enzymes Ellroy used to get the cranberry relish out of this thing, worked like a charm. He even gave me some to take home. He's an interesting character. The karaoke was great too. Jackson and Lucy can really sing. And once they dragged you to the mic, you sounded impressive. Too bad you all got the call that you have to go into work this evening."

"I half expected it," John confides, "so did Jackson and Lucy. I got the feeling that Grey held off as long as he could, but with the bomb cyclone approaching faster than anticipated, we have to prepare for a holiday night even more deadly than the usual."

Grace nods. "The emergency room will probably be swamped as well. I'll be on call."

"You should have fun more often, Grace," John suggests, "especially when Oliver is with his father, and you're not besieged by casualties."

"In the rare moments when that occurs, I'll think about it."

* * *

Nyla glances at the time on her phone. Good thing she'd only promised Lila she'd be around for Thanksgiving dinner. She'll still have a little time to help Donovan clean up and do some drawing with Lila before she leaves. Her next step is having her daughter overnight. Now, she'll just have to find the time to put furniture together for Lila's room. It can't be that hard. Compared to taking down drug lords, it should be a piece of cake.

* * *

Five days later

Nyla stares up at Nolan, who's still holding his gun gangster style as Ripper and his thugs drive off. "You have a death wish, Boot?"

"If I do, I learned it from my new T.O." He checks his watch. "You don't have much time to put your daughter's bed together. Are you sure you don't want a hand?"

"I've got it, Nolan. And you should go think about what you're going to tell Grey about disobeying orders."

"No one gave me an order. They were too busy trying to figure out how they could keep Ripper under surveillance. But I did hear the part about no traveling, and I just made sure you didn't go anywhere."

"If you think that's going to fly with Grey, good luck, but you saved my ass. That should be worth something."

"Harper," John responds, "the person who needs to believe that saving your ass is worth something, is you."

* * *

"I had a great time, John. You're right," Grace confesses as Nolan walks her to the door of the apartment she shares with her son, "I should think about having fun more often."

John shuffles his feet, unsure of what to do next. Twenty-one years ago, he would have started with a deep kiss before he and Grace tumbled through the door together, tearing off their clothes as they went. But it's 2019, almost 2020, and things are wildly different. They didn't even call the evening a date, so a kiss, let alone anything that might follow one, would be out of line. He'll have to let Grace take the lead. OK, it's a hug. Hugs are good. Too good. When he gets home, he may take a very cool shower.

Grace can hear John walking to the elevator as she leans against the inside of her door. She was tempted to ask him to stay. But damn, he just broke up with his girlfriend, and she's going through a divorce. And right now, she should be spending whatever spare time she has, with Oliver. But she suspects there will be more camping trips for her son and a few hours here and there when the hospital isn't in dire need of her services. She and John aren't randy kids anymore. They can take things slowly and see where they go.

* * *

Nyla eyes the books she used to temporarily prop up the foot of Lila's bed. She should have taken Nolan up on his offer to help. Until he passed one to her at roll call, she wasn't sure what an Allen wrench was or that they come in different sizes. When she looked it up, she found out that he'd given her the right one to put together the furniture. It was a kind gesture, but then John is full of those. She hopes that one day, that won't cost his life — or hers.

At least her daughter didn't mind the bed's collapse. They both had a good laugh over it. Nyla can't remember the last time she laughed like that, but she wants to be able to do it again. Nolan was right about another thing. She was self-sabotaging because she was nervous about her overnight with Lila. She'll be damned if she'll be worried anymore. She's going to be a parent, whatever it takes, even accepting some help from her boot.

* * *

Lucy grins at Jackson as he comes into the kitchen, seeking breakfast. "So, you and Sterling Freeman. How did that happen?"

Jackson yanks open the refrigerator door. "One minute I was consulting on his show, and the next minute we were about to kiss — until a stalker shot me." He pulls out a carton of milk as Lucy holds out a box of Honey Yummies. "Sterling insisted on going to the hospital with me, even though Lopez told him I was just hit in the vest. Then he brought me back here. He even bought the wine. And we talked for hours, and not just about cop stuff, about everything. I didn't even do that with Gino."

Lucy takes back the Yummies to fill her own bowl. "I'm happy for you, Jackson. I hope it works out. What about Lopez? Does she know you and Sterling…"

"I think she picked up on it," Jackson confides, "but honestly, I think she's too busy worrying about Wesley to care."

Lucy pours two cups of coffee. "Yeah, I heard he had a meltdown at the station. After getting stabbed like that, it's not surprising he'd have PTSD. I hope he gets the help he needs. If he wants a referral, my parents have colleagues who specialize in coping with severely traumatized patients. I could get Lopez some names."

Jackson shakes his head. "She's pretty ragged right now. I'm not going to push it by bringing Wesley up. But if she says anything about him, I'll send her your way."

* * *

"We need cops to transport Rosalind Dyer," Assistant D.A. Sean Del Monte tells Wade Grey. That rookie, John Nolan, who was dating Jessica, worked out pretty well last time. He thought on his feet. Bradford was OK too. Can I get them, and as many other cops as you can spare?"

Grey cocks an eyebrow. "For one woman? How dangerous is she?"

"She's a serial killer, Wade," Sean replies, "You know that. But she also seems to find accomplices, fans really, wherever she is. There were a bunch of them that wrote to her in prison. She even got a pile of proposals."

Grey sighs. "After all my years as a cop, sometimes I still can't get my head around some of the crazies out there."

"That makes two of us," Sean agrees, "and my boss suspects that Dyer has one who'll try to free her."

Grey flips open his laptop to check his roster. "All right, you have Nolan, and I'll do some juggling to see how many others I can shake loose."

"Make sure they're on their guard," Sean cautions. "With Dyer, anything can happen."


	10. Chapter 10

Restoration

Chapter 10

Bradford motions Jackson to a corner of the locker room. "Where's Chen? If she doesn't show up soon, she's going to be late for roll call. That's an instant black mark."

Jackson shrugs helplessly. "She had a date last night. She said you told her to go out for a drink to unwind, but she never came back to the apartment."

"Was she out with that Caleb guy?" Bradford inquires.

"I don't know. But she said she couldn't resist a guy with a cute puppy."

Bradford shakes his head. "Damn! I knew something about that guy wasn't right. He was too perfect, and Chen fell for it. Any idea where she went?"

"No, but maybe we could track her car. She drove there. That wreck is too old to have GPS, but we could ask Nell to put out a BOLO."

"Good idea," Bradford acknowledges. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

As if slogging through tar, Lucy gradually comes to consciousness. Her pounding head immediately reminds her of Bradford's suggestion that she get a stiff drink to wind down. Obviously, she overdid it. Wow, she'd better not be late to roll call. As she attempts to get her watch close enough to her face to read the luminous dial, she bangs her elbow against metal. Slowly a blurry memory of Caleb placing her in his trunk returns. What did he do to her, and where the hell is she?

* * *

Nolan sticks his head into Armstrong's office on his way to pick up his gear. "Grey said Harper and I are still assigned to you. Get any sleep last night?"

"Maybe an hour," Nick confides. "You?"

"About the same. I kept wondering what the connection was between Bryan Coleman and Rosalind Dyer and how she could have gotten him to put up those pictures of your wife."

"He was her apprentice," Armstrong explains. "I had evidence that she used one in the cases Del Monte decided not to charge. I just didn't have enough for him to make a case."

"So why is Coleman dead?" Nolan wonders.

"Probably because she found a new follower and didn't need him anymore. To her, people are like toys. She plays with them as long as they amuse her, and then she gets rid of them. The new apprentice would have killed the old one for her. And he's probably the one who attacked you at the old zoo."

"How?" Nolan asks. "The M.E. was able to get fingerprints off the body. It couldn't have been in the ground that long. She didn't have any visitors except her lawyer. She couldn't communicate with the outside. How did she direct him? Could someone in the prison have been transmitting messages for her?"

"Good guess," Nick responds. "I sent for the records of anyone who's had contact with her."

"How about any overlap with Bryan Coleman?" Nolan queries.

"We'll be looking for that too. I want to go back to Coleman's apartment and go over it inch by inch."

"Armstrong, will you be able to handle what's up on the wall?" Nolan wonders.

"If it gets me closer to figuring out how Rosalind has been pulling the strings, I'll have to."

Hey, 5%," Nyla calls from the hallway. "Get your ass moving."

Nolan exchanges glances with Armstrong, who nods. "I'll meet you at the Coleman apartment."

* * *

"What can we find at the Coleman apartment that the crime scene investigation unit didn't," Nolan asks as Nyla drives.

"They were looking for blood, trace, anything they could analyze. We'll be looking for connections, like hidden documents."

"How about neighbors, someone with whom Coleman would have had free communication?"

"Not a bad idea, Boot. Why don't you canvass the building and see what you can find out? I can go over the apartment with Armstrong."

"You're sounding more like a detective than a T.O.," Nolan observes.

"Either way, I outrank you," Nyla points out. "Knocking on doors is rookie business."

* * *

Caleb Wright smiles as he answers the door. "Officer… Nolan. I'm Caleb Wright. What can I do for the L.A.P.D.?"

"Were you acquainted with your neighbor, Bryan Coleman? He lived two floors up."

"I'm sorry, the name doesn't ring a bell," Caleb replies sunnily. "I've only lived here for a little more than six months. I haven't had much interaction with the other tenants."

"Didn't I see you the other night?" Nolan inquires, "when officer Chen arrested a thief at the Green Banana?"

"I was there," Caleb admits. "Small world. Your fellow officer is a formidable woman."

"Yes, she is," Nolan agrees. "You wouldn't have seen her since, would you?"

"Sadly, no," Caleb claims. "I gave her my number, but we haven't met up again. I suppose that I was less impressive than she is."

Nolan nods. "Most of us are. You have a good day, Mr. Wright."

* * *

"You get around the building that fast, Nolan?" Nyla asks as John joins her and Armstrong in Bryan Coleman's apartment.

"Most of the neighbors weren't home, or at least weren't answering their doors," Nolan reports. "But I found something. It's a hell of a coincidence, and maybe a frightening one. Chen didn't show up this morning. Jackson has no idea where she is, and the guy two floors down was hitting on her in a bar the night before we were assigned to Rosalind Dyer."

"No coincidence," Armstrong declares. "Somehow, Wright connects to Rosalind."

Nolan draws a ragged breath. "Which means that Lucy could be in real danger — or dead."

"Armstrong closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping. "I'm afraid you're right."

* * *

Jackson glances at Lopez. "You've checked your phone about every five minutes. Worried about Wesley? I thought he was back at work."

Angela grips the steering wheel more tightly. "It's complicated, but you've been checking as often as I have. You worried about Chen?"

"For her to just disappear makes no sense. She's been trying so hard to prove that she deserves to be a cop. She knows how Grey would react to an unexcused absence, and what Bradford would do. Something must have happened to her."

"Hey, Boot, you heard the BOLO Nell put out on Chen's car. Someone will spot it, and we'll figure out where she is. If she's in trouble, we'll help her, I promise."

"Yeah, Thanks, Lopez."

"No thanks necessary," Lopez assures Jackson. "We take care of our own. Whatever it takes."

* * *

Lucy pushes up as hard as she can against the metal lid of her prison. She'd have more leverage if she could use her legs, but there isn't enough room to rotate her body. A tiny amount of air is coming through a partially opened vent in the metal wall, but someone — probably Caleb — could close it at any time. She feels like an idiot. After all the years of her parents' analytical skills seeping into her head, she should have known something was off. Bradford did. Caleb was too nice, too charming. But since breaking up with Nolan, she's been longing for another human being with that kind of warmth. On the surface, at least, Caleb seemed to have it. Or maybe she was afraid that if she looked too hard, it would spoil the start of what appeared to be a promising relationship. It doesn't matter now. All that matters is getting away, and right now, she has no idea how she's going to do that.


	11. Chapter 11

Restoration

Chapter 11

A text alert chirps on Armstrong's phone. "We got a result on the BOLO on Chen's car. It's outside the Green Banana."

"That's the bar where she first met Caleb Wright," Nolan realizes. "She must have met him there again last night. He could be holding her in his apartment right now!"

"We don't know that she was with him," Armstrong cautions. "We go busting in with no probable cause; the next thing we know, some judge cuts him loose."

"Armstrong's right, Nolan," Nyla agrees. "We need confirmation from the staff of the Green Banana that Caleb and Chen were there."

Armstrong consults his phone again. "Lopez and West are already on their way over there to check. And Coleman didn't keep his victims here. Lucy probably isn't in Wright's apartment either."

"I can make sure Wright's still there," Nyla volunteers, while we set up surveillance."

Nolan's lips tighten. "He'll get suspicious if another cop knocks on his door."

"Don't worry, Boot," Nyla assures him. "The last thing he'll think I am is a cop."

"Crystal again?" Nolan inquires.

"Uh-uh, I've got a better character in mind. Go get the green duffel I stowed in our shop."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

In the bathroom of Bryan Coleman's apartment, Harper quickly rummages through the contents of her bag. An attractive but slightly threadbare dress and a pair of worn-down shoes will be perfect for what she has in mind. She rapidly releases her hair from the tight confines regulations require and uses a brush to smooth it. A little bit of cheap makeup, some pretty pictures, and an ID lanyard will complete her character: Latoya Simmons, single mom just trying to make enough sales of discount art to support her kid. The last part of that isn't far off the mark.

Nyla raps on Caleb's door and rings his doorbell until she hears steps inside. "You are insistent," Caleb remarks opening the door. "Is the building on fire or something?"

Harper holds up a laminated card with her picture on it. "I'm sorry, Sir. You're the first one in this building who's even answered the door, and my feet are killing me. I represent independent artists from around L.A. I can help you decorate your apartment with original paintings at a fraction of the cost of buying them at a gallery. Wouldn't it be amazing to have something on your walls that's unique to you?" Nyla flips open an album. "Let me show you the beautiful things my clients have to offer."

Caleb's automatic smile fades. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. The landlord here won't let the tenants put nails into the walls."

"No problem," Nyla insists, "you can use hangers that don't leave a mark. I can bring them when I bring your paintings, framed and ready to hang. If you'll just look."

Caleb shakes his head, starting to push the door closed. "I'm really not into paintings. You have a good day, though."

"Hopefully, a better one than you're going to have," Nyla mutters as she walks away, pulling out her radio. "Armstrong, he's still in the apartment."

"Copy that," Nick responds. "Nolan's waiting for you, and I'm ready to roll."

* * *

Lucy's lost count of how many times she's banged on her prison trying to get a response, but she hammers the metal walls with her fists again. "Caleb, please, let me out. You don't want to do this. You hurt or kill a cop, and every member of the L.A.P.D. will hunt you down, no matter what it takes. I saw it happen when my captain was shot. We all worked night and day to get the bastard who slaughtered her. You've still got a chance, don't waste it."

"I'm talking to myself," Lucy mumbles, her vision graying. "Maybe it's nighttime already. I should sing a lullaby. Stars shining bright above you. Sweet breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me." Her song fades as she slips into a hazy slumber.

His shoulder stiff from waiting, Nolan points excitedly through the windshield. "Look, he's leaving!"

"Chill, Nolan," Harper advises. "We don't want him to see a cop car behind him. We'll let Armstrong follow him first, and we can keep our distance as backup. Lopez and West said the next shift at the Green Banana will be in soon. As soon as they have evidence that Chen was with Caleb, a team will check his apartment while he's gone. But Armstrong is on point. Chen probably isn't there. You just keep that radio in your hand in case we need to slow Wright down or call in more units."

"I'm not letting go of it," Nolan promises.

* * *

Caleb hums to himself as he drives to a hazardous waste storage site near the docks. Thousands of drums are waiting to be shipped overseas for recycling or disposal. Since the Asian markets closed, there's nowhere for them to go, and no one wants to go near them. All of that makes the location the perfect place for him to do his job. Rosalind's instructions were specific. The prisoner isn't supposed to die until tomorrow. That's why Lucy's drum is vented. But that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun with her.

Rosalind told him that sensory deprivation does things to a person. After a while, they begin to hallucinate and don't know what's real and what isn't. But he's not interested in Lucy's dreams, just her pain. He can make her feel a lot of it without killing her. He'll make cuts, deep enough to burn but shallow enough to clot on their own after a while. Rosalind taught him about that too. He can enjoy himself for the rest of the day and all night.

Caleb hopes Lucy screams. Without anyone else around to hear her, the sweet music will be his alone. Or he might record some of it to send to Rosalind. She'd like that; she'd like that a lot. Yes, he decides, he'll record the screams and give them to his contact to pass on. And he'll record the sound of Lucy's dying gasps when almost all her air is gone, and she desperately begs for mercy. Rosalind will like those best of all. He can feel his pants getting tight, just thinking about it. He presses the gas pedal harder. Not long from now, he'll have his pleasures in full freedom and comfort.

* * *

"He's heading toward the harbor," Armstrong reports, "probably one of the warehouses there. Stay close. I'll be moving in as much as I can. There are a lot of places he can lose himself. I'm going to call for air support, but if it comes in too soon, it could tip off Wright, and we might never find Chen."

Nolan swallows. "Copy that." He turns to Harper. "With all the cargo and shipping containers near the water, there must be thousands of places he could be hiding Lucy — Officer Chen. Coleman's victims were smothered to death. What if that's what Wright is going to do to Chen? What if Armstrong loses Wright? What if we can't find her?"

"Take a breath, Five Percent," Harper orders. "Armstrong still has Wright, and we have his back. We'll find Chen. Just be ready for whatever happens when we do."

"I'll be ready," Nolan swears. "More ready than I've ever been for anything in my life."

Armstrong's voice pours into the shop. "Wright's turning into warehouse row. It shouldn't be long now before I see exactly where he's heading. Nolan, if you have a spare hand, cross your fingers."

"And toes," John adds under his breath.


	12. Chapter 12

Restoration

Chapter 12

"Lucy," Caleb calls in a bad imitation of Desi Arnaz, "I'm home! Are you here?" He bangs his fist on the top of every drum surrounding hers as if he'd forgotten where he'd imprisoned her.

Has he forgotten? Will she die without anyone ever knowing where to find her? Finally, Caleb raps the flat of a knife lightly on the metal surrounding Lucy. "Here's my girl. It's playtime." Reaching to the pocket of his jacket for a spray can, Caleb releases the ring holding the lid on her drum. The mist hits Lucy in the face as her stiff legs attempt to propel her upward. Semi-conscious, she collapses.

Caleb grins down at his helpless prisoner. "That's better." He traces a line on her cheek with the tip of his blade, and blood wells up from the cut. "You'd like to stop me, wouldn't you? But you can't. A very good friend told me about the laws of thermodynamics. You can't win. You can't break even. You can't get out of the game. None of our playthings has ever broken those rules. The universe wouldn't allow it. You won't break them either."

* * *

"I'm at the building where Caleb's car is parked, about two minutes ahead of you. The sign out front reads Safe-Store." Armstrong reports to Nolan and Harper. "The place is huge, and the WHMIS placard indicates multiple hazards. We're going to need a lot of help finding Chen, and maybe a hazmat team too. I've already called in every unit available, ETA five minutes."

Nolan smacks his palm against the dash. "Lucy may not have five minutes!"

"Boot, we'll catch up to Armstrong, but we can't just go charging in there. If Caleb rigged it with explosives, the whole place could go up and take Chen with it. Believe me, she's safer if we wait. If Caleb was schooled by Rosalind, he'll kill Chen slowly so he can enjoy every moment of her pain."

The muscles in Nolan's jaw pop as he grits his teeth. "If you're trying to make me feel better, Harper, you're not succeeding."

"I'm not trying to make you feel better, Nolan," Nyla retorts, "I'm trying to make you think like a cop. We'll do the best we can to save Chen without getting her or ourselves killed."

Nolan silently counts to 300, feeling every passing second until the first wave of backup arrives. Weapons drawn, the officers encircle the warehouse while Sergeant Kemper of the Pacific Division uses an infrared scanner to determine the number of living humans inside. When Kemper holds up two fingers, Nolan fervently hopes that one of them is Lucy. After checking for tripwires, the assembled forces breach in concert through the front, back, and side doors of the warehouse.

Enthralled with his third cut, Caleb is so riveted by the slow appearance of red along the line and the whitening of Lucy's skin that he barely hears the converging cops threading their way through the sea of drums. Rosalind told him to always keep alert. He should have remembered. But it's not too late. He faces the onslaught pressing his knife against Lucy's jugular. "Any closer and she's dead."

With rising nausea, a flashback hits Nolan. He's fruitlessly trying to staunch the flow of blood from a dying Zoe Anderson's neck. That won't happen to Lucy. It can't happen to Lucy. He can almost hear Rosalind cackling as her dark soul reaches out to her apprentice. There has to be a way.

Nolan scans the labels on the barrels, recognizing the symbols. He had to use warning tags for materials on his construction sites. He picks out health, flammable, and corrosive. None of those are what he needs. Finally, only 2 feet from Caleb, he spots a mini-drum with a prominent sticker reading 'lachrymator' — a crude version of tear gas. The hazard can't be too intense, or the container wouldn't be in a warehouse with so many others — or would it? He knows hazardous waste storage regulations are often honored more in the breach than in the observance. Other construction companies underbid him by cutting those kinds of corners. Still, the container is small, only about the size of two tear gas grenades.

Nolan catches Harper's eye, motioning her to follow his gaze. As deeply as she was involved with drugs, she has to understand chemicals. He mimes tears and delivering a shot.

It takes a moment for Nyla to comprehend what Nolan is trying to tell her. Tears. A lachrymator. Yes, she remembers. It was part of the chemistry she had to learn for her undercover work. She has no idea how the hell Nolan knows about it, but that doesn't matter. Loosing the fumes will cause enough of a distraction to take down Caleb. And if they need to, they can wash their eyes out later. She points her thumb at her chest. She has the golden ticket. She'll take the shot.

Stinging vapors quickly spread and surround Caleb when Nyla's bullet penetrates thin metal. Caleb reflexively drops his knife to claw at his eyes and Nolan flies at him, his own eyes burning. Nolan wants nothing so much as to beat the hell out of Lucy's abductor. But taking care of Lucy is more important. As Nyla closes in, cuffs in hand, with four other cops behind her, Nolan rushes to where Lucy huddles, confused and almost blinded. "It's John. I've got you. You're going to be all right."

* * *

"Are you all right, John?" Grace asks when Nolan shows up at the hospital. "Your eyes look like you're coming off a ten-day bender."

"I'm OK. The EMTs ran water in them forever, and I grabbed a shower. I'm actually here because I'm worried about Lucy. The medics transported her to Harbor General because it was closer, but she was still out of it, and the doctors wouldn't tell me much. They gave the details to her parents, but the Chens were too busy with Lucy to say anything to me or any of the other cops. So I was wondering if you could call, as a doctor who's cared for Lucy before, just to make sure she's all right."

Grace lays her hand on John's arm. "Sure, I can do that, but you know I can't give you any more details than the doctors at Harbor General could."

"I know," John acknowledges, "just tell me what you can."

It seems like more than the 10 minutes that go by before Grace returns from making her call. "This is what I can say, John. Lucy's physical condition is stable, but Harbor General is keeping her overnight for observation. Her mother is with her, and she'll probably be discharged tomorrow."

John scrubs his hand over his face. "Thank God. Thank you, Grace. You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"No problem, John, but I think you should go home and get some rest. You've had a hell of a day yourself."

"You're right," John admits, "but can I call you later to talk?"

"Go to sleep, John. I go on shift again at nine tomorrow morning, and I have to get Oliver off to school, but if you call me at seven, we'll have some time."

"All right, John agrees, "seven it will be. Thanks again, Grace."

"Sure, and don't worry, John," Grace urges. "From what I've seen of Lucy, she's a strong woman, and she has a lot of support. She'll get past this."

"I hope you're right."


	13. Chapter 13

Restoration

Chapter 13

"Right on the dot, John," Grace notes as she picks up Nolan's call. "I spoke to the Harbor General resident in charge of Lucy's case 10 minutes ago. Lucy's mother stayed with her last night, and she's doing well."

"Thanks for that, Grace. And thanks for your time now. Listen, I meet up with a lot of bad guys on the street. That's the job. But Rosalind and Caleb seem like pure evil. I'd almost expect their heads to spin around or something, but demon possession would be too easy. I was wondering if when you have people like them come through the hospital, do you think of them as the dregs of humanity, or do you think of them as desperately mentally ill. I mean, someone would have to be to do what they do, right?"

Grace blows a breathy whistle into the phone. "John, I'm not a psychiatrist, and I'm not a lawyer. My job is to treat people as well as I can, pretty much as fast as I can. Then we either admit them or send them home. We see a lot of mental illness. Most patients aren't dangerous; they're vulnerable, but every so often, I see a look in someone's eyes that scares the hell out of me. Still, there's not much we can do unless they are an obvious risk to themselves or someone else. Even then, there is a big difference between the clinical definition of mental illness and the legal definition of insanity. In many ways, where mental illness is concerned, the law is archaic. It drives some of the shrinks I know crazy. Not in the technical sense," she adds wryly.

"It drives cops crazy too," Nolan agrees. "We see so many problems we don't begin to have the tools to cope with. Some cops can just let it slide off their backs. Jessica seemed like that sometimes. I can't be that way now, and I hope I never will be."

"Me either, John," Grace agrees. "I guess we both just do the best that we can."

"But at least we can commiserate," John suggests. "Listen, the L.A.P.D is still trying to figure out how Rosalind reached out to her accomplices. I don't know how many hours I'm going to pull until we find the connection. We still have to cover everything else going on in the division too. But when I get the chance, maybe you and I can have a commiseration dinner or distract ourselves with a movie."

"I think we could both use that, John. Just send me a text when you know what your schedule is going to be like, and we'll work out a time."

"I'll do that," John promises.

* * *

Rosalind looks up at the guard who let himself into her cell. "It's about time. Did you bring me a message from my newest pet?"

"He's been arrested," Hernandez reports. "And his target was rescued before he could make the kill. I couldn't get much of the story, but from what I heard, that rookie, Nolan, played a part in keeping Caleb from completing his assignment."

"The world's oldest boy scout," Rosalind declares. "I could see that while I was out there. He was fun for a while, but now that piece will have to be removed from the chessboard. Go get me as much information about him as you can, and I'll give you your orders."

"Yes, Ma'am," Hernandez agrees.

"That's a good boy, Antonio," Rosalind smiles saucily, stroking the bulge below his belt. "After Nolan is out of the picture, we'll talk about your reward."

"As many of you are aware," Sergeant Grey announces, "the killings of Rosalind Dyer are much more extensive than the D.A.'s office was willing to charge. In light of developments uncovered by Detective Armstrong, Detective Harper, Officer Nolan, and others, the L.A.P.D. has instituted a massive search for her victims. It will be covering the originally designated area as well as the defunct zoo in Griffith Park. We will be employing cadaver dogs, ground radar, and any other tools at our disposal to find the burial sites of the remains. Large areas will have to be secured, which will require considerable man and woman power. During the time of the search, those officers left on regular patrol will be addressing priority calls. That means no sitting on your butts waiting to cite rolling stops. Do I make myself clear, Officer Wrigley?"

Scott Wrigley colors. "Yes, Sir."

"And I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that according to Officer Chen's mother, she is doing well. The doctors expect her to make a complete recovery, and she should be returning to work shortly." Grey waits for applause to subside before continuing. "Those of you who were assigned to the Rosalind Dyer matter will remain on that duty while further victims are located. Everyone else, check the board for your assignments before you pick up your gear." Grey catches Bradford's eye with a warning look. "And be careful out there."

* * *

"This place is a dump!" Hernandez mutters to himself as he cases Nolan's work in progress. "Good locks, though, and a security system. Damn rookie thinks like a cop." Hernandez examines the stacks of building materials covered by a tarp in the small backyard. There are promising places to hide, not always easy to find with Antonio's large frame. Even better, he can readily plant explosives, park in the driveway of an unoccupied home down the block, and set them off when Nolan returns.

Hernandez's task shouldn't be much of a challenge. Rosalind made sure that all her apprentices had caches of the tools they'd need, and Antonio knows where many of them are. His bomb doesn't have to be complicated, just large enough to blow Nolan's whole house and readily detonated by a cellphone signal. Any of Rosalind's pupils could build one in their sleep, and he is the best of her apostles. After all, he's the one still alive. Making a mental list of what he'll need to take Nolan out of the picture, he returns to his car. He should be able to seek his reward from Rosalind tomorrow morning.

* * *

Nolan's stomach twists as he returns to the abandoned zoo. If he'd been just a little smarter, a little quicker, he would have been able to capture his attacker. He's sure it was Caleb. The body type was a dead-on match, and Lucy was tortured in a way similar to the victim he and Harper found at the zoo. John shudders. Lucy could have easily been smothered like the zoo victims were.

He swallows, striving to pull himself together. Lucy's going to be OK. Grace said so, and so did Sergeant Grey. John needs to believe their words. From the sounds of barking dogs in the distance. Rosalind and her apprentices had more victims that weren't as lucky as Lucy. More dogs and their handlers will be arriving to go over every inch of the zoo and the tunnels beneath. John is hoping that there won't be any more bodies for the canines to sniff out, but having experienced Rosalind's madness at close range, he's afraid there will be, very afraid. He'll just have to wait, man his post and hope for the best.

* * *

Hernandez smirks as he unlocks a small storage unit. Rosalind set up dummy accounts to pay the rent on her secret stashes, as long as she's alive. This one has everything he needs to make tonight officer Nolan's last hours on earth. Antonio can feel his excitement growing as he imagines his kill.


	14. Chapter 14

Restoration

Chapter 14

Nolan is bone-weary. The cadaver dogs and their handlers did most of the gruesome work finding bodies, including several in the tunnels beneath the zoo. Mostly John stayed at his post, looking out for unexpected incursions, but the sight of that much devastation flowing from one twisted human being sucked almost every ounce of strength from his body and his spirit.

Driving back to his home-in-progress, John barely does his usual scan of the surrounding houses, but something sets off a warning in the still functioning sliver of his mind. There's a car in the driveway down the street. That house is empty and has been, ever since John first considered buying his place. Lack of habitation is one thing that kept the bank's asking price in the basement. There's been no activity to indicate any interest, and John's never seen that car before.

Pulling into his own driveway, John decides to investigate. He strolls as nonchalantly as he can down the broken sidewalk, aware of the weight of his off-duty weapon at the small of his back. He catches a glimpse of someone behind the wheel before the figure ducks out of sight. John couldn't tell much about who it was except that whoever attempted to disappear is about John's height, but broader. If whoever it is parked there on some innocent mission, he'd have no reason to hide. John reaches in his pocket for his phone to call for backup.

"F**k!" Antonio hisses. It wasn't supposed to go this way at all. Even if he can convince the L.A.P.D. that he has a reason for keeping surveillance on Nolan's block, Rosalind won't excuse his failure. She never excuses failure. He'd be safer with the cops than trying to return to his job, on the slim chance that he keeps it.

Antonio could try blowing Nolan's house. The shock wave could knock Nolan to the pavement, giving Antonio an opening to get away. But where would he go? He's known Rosalind long enough to realize that her reach is virtually unlimited. He could run, but he couldn't hide. Trading the location of the bomb might be worth some measure of protection. It's worth a try. Against Rosalind, anything is worth a try.

* * *

Grey puts a firm hand on Bradford's shoulder as he stares through the glass while Armstrong questions Hernandez. Words force themselves through the T.O.'s teeth. "That sonofabitch sent Caleb after Chen."

"I know," Grey acknowledges. "Every cop in this building knows. Right now, Hernandez has nothing. We've got him on attempted murder of a cop, and he's pissing his pants at the thought of being in prison within range of Rosalind Dyer. We have the advantage, and Armstrong is going to use it. But you try to go in there, give Hernandez any chance to claim abuse or excessive force, you'll give him an excuse to turn the tables, maybe even walk. Go work out on the heavy bag or get a drink. Do whatever you need to do to stay away from this until we shake loose everything Hernandez knows about Rosalind and her operation. Do you hear me officer Bradford?"

Tim beats his fist against the wall. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

John shivers beneath a sheet and blanket on his bed. It's 85 degrees outside. His newly installed air conditioning system works, but the last thing he wants is to turn it on. He'd thought of this house as his haven, a place separate from his work as a cop. But now his worlds have collided. The bomb squad found Hernandez's explosive device easily enough, especially since the guard told them where it was. They also went over every square inch of John's home and the surrounding houses and declared them safe. John doesn't feel safe. It's not just that his home was invaded, but with Rosalind pulling strings, there is no safe place — for anyone. Being alone isn't helping. He reaches for his watch on the bedside table. Grace should have been off shift for hours, and Oliver must be in bed by now. Maybe she'll be willing to talk for a while. Not daring to chance waking up an 8-year-old with the ring of a cellphone, John decides to send a text.

* * *

Grace's phone dings as she's considering turning in for what for her is an early night. John wants to come over. That's a step up from an early morning phone call or a casual date. Or maybe it's a flashback to when they couldn't wait to get their hands on each other. But it doesn't look like he's angling for sex, and she doubts that he would, with Oliver in the house. That just wouldn't be like John. He says he had a hard day. Since most of them have been lately, this one must have been extremely disturbing. Her finger hovers over her screen for a moment, even as she knows she's going to say yes.

* * *

John raps as softly as he can on Grace's door. He has no idea if Oliver is a light sleeper or not, but he's not there to complicate Grace's life any more than he already is. He stopped shivering in the heat of his trip to Grace's apartment, but his breathing is still uneasy, and his throat two sizes too small.

Wordlessly letting John in, Grace waves him to a seat on the sofa. Rather than sitting beside him, she pulls up a storage ottoman to face him. "What happened, John?" she inquires softly.

With shaking hands, John describes Hernandez's plan.

Grace presses her fingers to her mouth. "John, no wonder you didn't feel comfortable in your house tonight. I think if someone had tried to blow me up like that, I'd take Oliver and spend a night in a hotel — maybe more than one night. This apartment doesn't have a guest room, but you're welcome to stay on my couch."

"What about Oliver?" John asks. "How are you going to explain the presence of a strange man in your living room?"

"He's had friends sleep over. There's was one who stayed for a couple of weeks while his parents were going through rough times. No reason why he'd have trouble understanding Mom helping out a friend."

John clasps both of Grace's hands in his own. "Sounds like you've got a great kid there. Like mother, like son."

A smile dances in Grace's eyes. "Except that he has his father's hair, and he definitely has his father's feet. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket. If you wake up before I do, start the coffee, and if Oliver comes into the kitchen and climbs up looking for Smiley Crunchies, tell him, I said that the rule stands that he can only have them on Saturday mornings."

"That way, you only have to cope with the sugar rush once a week?" John queries.

"You obviously speak with the voice of experience. Right. Oliver and I should both be up around six."

"I should be too, or possibly even earlier if I'm going to make it home to change clothes before roll call. If I leave before I see you; I'll lock the door on my way out. Thanks again for this, Grace. I don't know how I could have gotten through the night at my place."

Grace grabs bedding from the top of the hall closet and lays it on the couch beside Nolan. "That's what friends are for, John. Get some rest."

John presses a kiss into the palm of her hand. "Good night, Grace."


	15. Chapter 15

Restoration

Chapter 15

For a moment, John can't figure out where he is. His six foot two frame is curled to fit into the limited space of a couch. Right. He's at Grace's apartment. He glances at the watch still on his wrist. It's 5 a.m.

Nolan considers trying to fall back asleep, but if he gets up now, he'll have plenty of time to shower and pick up fresh clothes at home before roll call. In the coming light of day, Hernandez's bomb planting presence should create less of a taint in John's lovingly rebuilt house. At least he hopes so. He leaves as quietly as he can, pushing the button on the knob to make the door lock behind him.

* * *

Pressing on his temples isn't helping Tim's hangover, and the idea of aspirin on an empty stomach triggers his gag reflex. He should have stayed at the gym instead of going out for a drink — drinks, especially after the way the advice he gave Chen turned out. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he worked out, his anger didn't wane.

The revelations Armstrong managed to elicit from Hernandez were horrifying and infuriating. Under Rosalind's thrall, the guard turned his back on anything decent or even human, carrying her messages to Caleb and completely bowing to her bidding. Even with Tim's extensive familiarity with street curses, no description could fit what the mother****er Caleb did to Chen. The guilt of urging her into Caleb's path is like a two-ton weight on Tim's chest.

Bradford would love to kick some street ass, but Grey will probably put him on the desk until Chen returns. Maybe that's just as well. An excessive force charge could destroy Tim's chance of making sergeant. Not that the hike in rank seems to matter much at that moment. He needs to do something, anything, to make sure Rosalind isn't pulling the strings of any more flesh puppets. At this moment, he has no idea how.

* * *

"Officer Bradford," Grey announces, "until officer Chen returns, Detective Armstrong has requested your assistance. You'll be reporting to him when we're finished here. The D.A.'s office considers the search for Rosalind Dyer's victims complete. The rest of you will all be resuming your regular patrols.

"We're facing increasing political pressure regarding the homeless in some areas of the division. You'll be receiving a list of shelters with openings. It's a short list, and the beds are limited, but help whenever you can. If you do fill a bed, call in so we can modify the availabilities, and we don't create any false expectations. All right. That's it. Be careful out there."

* * *

"What do you need from me?" Bradford demands, striding into Armstrong's office.

Armstrong throws out a hand. "Chill, Bradford. I thought you'd want in on this. I'm reviewing the records of everyone with any contact with Rosalind, who might be carrying messages for her."

"You think she has a replacement for Hernandez?" Bradford queries.

"I do," Armstrong confirms. "Rosalind is always three moves ahead. She knew Hernandez well enough to realize that he'd screw up eventually. We need to figure out who her backup is. So grab a pile of files and get to work — unless you think you have something better to do."

Bradford grabs an armload of folders. "Let's find the sonofabitch."

* * *

"Are you with me, Boot?" Harper asks.

"Sure. Of course. Why? Did I miss something?" Nolan wonders.

"No, but we've been on the road for 10 minutes, and you haven't started talking your head off yet. That's a record for you."

"Just trying to concentrate on what's in front of us. Look under that overpass. Is that a group of homeless?"

"It's not a bad location, and they have tents," Nyla points out. "They may not want to move, Nolan. It's public property. Under the revised rules, we can't roust them if they don't want to go."

"I'm aware of that," Nolan responds. "It was one of the oral questions the chief threw at me on my 6-month Rookie exam. He might have been trying to trip me up since the City Council had just changed the regs, but there was a big article about the situation in the Times. I studied it because we had nothing like this number of homeless in Clarion County. Of course, there are decent and affordable places to live in Clarion. If my house here hadn't been in foreclosure and about to fall apart, there's no way I would have been able to buy it. It's a shame, you know. There are a lot of empty houses where people could live if they fixed them up. Some of the structures are either condemned or slated to be. If they could be saved, it would not only provide homes; it would save the city the cost of demolition."

Nyla shakes her head. "There's the bleeding heart guardian again. Put him away and offer the people you're looking at an option. That's the best we can do right now."

The grooves flanking Nolan's nose deepen as he returns to the shop. "You were right. They don't want to go into shelters. Most of them are working, and they have a society of sorts helping each other out. They're afraid they'll lose it if they move."

Harper starts the shop. "They're probably right, Nolan. Let's go."

* * *

Tim paces Armstrong's office, taking in the information in the prison files. Chen was right about him absorbing things better when he's moving, and Armstrong probably assumes Bradford can't sit still. He can't, not when Rosalind may have another agent out there. There's something about the record of the guard in the file he's studying.

That's it! He's almost the same age as Rosalind, and they come from the same part of the city. They might have gone to school together, at least until Rosalind was identified as disturbed. It's worth checking to see if he has access to Rosalind — or she has access to him. She could already be sending him out to kill.

* * *

Despite her nightmares of smothering in the dark, Lucy is beginning to get bored. Her mother thinks that's a good sign, but it's a therapist assigned by the L.A.P.D. who'll have to certify her as fit to return to work. Her appointment isn't scheduled for a couple of days.

Since Lucy's best distraction is music, Jackson agreed to go to the karaoke bar with her, especially since Sterling is off on location. It's Calypso Night, not something she's usually into. They won't be going until Jackson's off shift, but there's no reason she can't practice until then.

There's plenty of calypso music Lucy can download. She's bouncing to the island rhythm until the sound of steel drums hits her like a piledriver. In a split second, she's back in her prison, enclosed by metal walls. The flashback holds her in its grasp until long after the recording is finished. She won't be going to karaoke, at least not that night. But what the hell is she going to do?

* * *

As Harper drives past the parking lot of a home improvement center, Nolan can see the crowd of men waiting to be offered jobs. Since he's been picking up supplies for his own projects, he's learned a little about the hopeful workers. Some of them are highly skilled but are limited by their language skills or lack of certifications. Many of them are undocumented as well, but that's another problem. If someone would rehab the homes in his neighborhood, there would be plenty of employment. There has to be a way to get the projects started for the good of the workers and the city.


	16. Chapter 16

Restoration

Chapter 16

"Hey, what's going on over there?" John wonders, spotting a confrontation in front of the improvement store.

Harper pulls up in front of two arguing men, just as one of them throws a punch, knocking his adversary to the ground. "Move in there, Boot," Harper orders.

Nolan blocks the attacker as he charges the downed man. "That's enough! You've already committed assault, don't make it worse."

The furious assailant struggles to get around Nolan. That sonofabitch is interfering with my livelihood. Urban renewal, my ass! My company should be knocking the city's precious buildings down."

"You can make your objections at the City Council meeting, the would-be victim protests. Officer, Nolan, is it? I'm not interested in pressing charges, just keep him away from me."

"I witnessed a crime, Sir, and this man may present a continuing threat," Nolan explains, snapping cuffs on his prisoner while Harper stands ready to grab her weapon. " I have to take him in, and I'll need your statement. What's your name?"

"George Abbot, I'm Councilman George Abbot."

"Hey, you're my councilman," Nolan realizes. "If you're interested in renewal, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"My door is always open to my constituents, Officer Nolan. You can call my office to make an appointment."

* * *

"Nolan, I know that look," Nyla asserts after John finishes processing their suspect. "You're playing white knight again."

"What I'm doing is planning to talk to my duly elected representative," Nolan insists. "It was a lot easier back in Foxburg. I put in a kitchen island for the mayor, and we could just go out for a beer. But an opportunity practically landed in my lap here, and I'm not about to waste it."

* * *

Lucy huddles in the corner of the couch in her apartment. She didn't get much sleep the night before, afraid that the minute she closed her eyes, even without calypso music, she'd be back in Caleb's drum. Before Jackson left for roll call, she assured him she'd be fine. She lied. She considers calling her mother for the list of PTSD specialists she'd so blithely suggested Lopez get for Wesley. But sh*t, can she go back to work if she's seeing a therapist? Can she make it back to work if she doesn't see a therapist? She doesn't know.

Reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV as a distraction. That won't solve her problem, but right now, she wants to think about something besides her abduction — anything else. She scans through the listings on the cable guide. A Hallmark movie could be what she needs. She's always been a sucker for happy endings, and she can use one more than ever.

* * *

"Found a suspect," Bradford informs Armstrong, rapping his knuckles against a file. "This guard is the perfect prey for Rosalind."

"Why's that?" Armstrong asks.

"He worked his way through a criminal justice degree selling Bamway products."

"Right," Armstrong picks up. "Multilevel marketing under the control of a charismatic leader. It's almost a cult. He'd have to be completely devoted to the pitch to make it work. If one Svengali can manipulate him, he can be manipulated by another. What's his name?"

"Stephen Samuelson."

"Figures. New Testament martyr with implied Old Testament ancestry. What's his connection to Rosalind?"

"He works the night shift in the wing where she's in solitary. He'd have been with her when Hernandez was gone. The other cons would have been down for the night. Perfect opportunity for her to pull his strings."

"Yes, it would have been," Armstrong considers. "I believe that tonight we'll pay a call on Officer Samuelson. You might want to catch some sleep before then."

Bradford shrugs. "Maybe. I thought I'd go check on Chen."

"Go easy," Armstrong advises.

"That's what everyone is probably doing," Bradford assumes. "I saw West wrapping up the best doughnuts from the break room to bring to her, and I heard Nolan ordering flowers for her. Maybe she could use a dose of normal. I know that after I was shot, that's what I wanted. Cops aren't made out of tissue paper."

"But we're made out of flesh and blood, Bradford," Armstrong reminds him. "We need time to heal, and after what happened to her, she may need a lot of time."

"Chen is tough," Bradford insists, remembering how Lucy stood up to him about Isabel. "If anyone can fight their way through this, she can."

* * *

Stomach lurching, Lucy looks through the peephole before opening the door for Bradford. "Boot, have you been crying?" he asks brusquely, noticing the dampness of her lower lashes. "You're not sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, are you? Haven't I taught you anything? A cop's got to be able to take it."

"It was just a stupid movie," Lucy insists. "The girl marries the prince of some imaginary country, and they live happily ever after."

"Cinderella, huh? The only movie like that that made sense to me was "Pretty Woman," and Gere was still an asshole. But if you've got time to waste watching fairytales, you've got time to help me study for my sergeant exam," Tim declares, pulling a paperback out of his back pocket. The chief just decided to throw another old reference at me, and there aren't any recordings. You do a passable job of reading out loud."

"Passable, huh?" Lucy throws back. "Give me the damn thing! You're going to get a higher grade on your sergeant exam than Nolan did on his rookie test."

Tim gives her the book. "If you think you can handle it."

"Just listen," Lucy commands.

* * *

By the time Nolan calls George Abbot's office on his dinner break, it's closed. Sure. Cops work 24/7, but city offices keep regular hours. John leaves a voicemail but doesn't have much hope that anything will come of it. But he'll try tomorrow on his lunch break and keep trying. He's not about to give up on his idea because he has to make a few phone calls. He can remember having to make 20 or 30 of them to nail down some of his construction contracts.

At least he should be able to call Grace. She usually grabs dinner around this time too. He owes her, big time. He thought about sending her flowers when he sent some to Lucy, but he prefers something more up close and personal. With as little time as Grace has with her son, maybe he can include Oliver in the plan. Other than sugary cereal, he has little idea what the boy likes. The easiest thing to do is ask Grace, but he wants to have a few options in mind before he does.

John glances across the table at Nyla, who just picked up the special order sub she'd been waiting for. He's never seen one with that many hot peppers on it before, but after the time she spent undercover at the border, he shouldn't be surprised. "Harper, you grew up in L.A. What did you and your friends like to do when you were kids, like about eight years old?"

Nyla gazes over the top of her sandwich. "Which, I'm guessing, is how old Grace's son is."

"Score one for the detective. Yeah, Oliver is eight," John admits. "So, aside from the obvious theme parks, what do you think?"

"I think you're asking the wrong person, Boot. I didn't grow up in the same neighborhood as a doctor's son. Ask Grace, or ask the kid."

"Or maybe I'll ask West."

Nyla shakes her head and takes another bite of her sandwich.


	17. Chapter 17

Restoration

Chapter 17

Ignoring his cooling burger on his long-awaited break, John punches in the number for Councilman Abbot's office, hoping someone there isn't taking a late lunch too. Picking up his call after two rings, a harried voice recommends that John take the last appointment of the Councilman's long day, noting that the next available slot won't be for a week. It's scheduled for only a half-hour after his shift ends, but with luck, he should be able to make it.

"Still on your crusade, Five Percent?" Harper inquires.

"If you want to call it that," John admits. "But I'm also following orders. We're supposed to be doing what we can to help the homeless find safe places to live, that's what I'm trying to do."

"You're probably beating your head against a bureaucratic wall," Nyla warns.

"It's my head," John declares, "and I've had more frustrating things happen on the job."

"You mean when a detective let the sh*t who beat up a friend of yours walk, to take down a chop shop?"

"You heard about that?"

"If there's anything I learned working undercover, Boot, it's to listen. Word gets around. But that's the kind of decision detectives have to make. You know that Nolan, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am. You do what you have to do, and so do I."

"Fine, just don't let it interfere with your work on the street."

"No, Ma'am, I mean yes, Ma'am. I won't let it stop me from taking down the bad guys."

* * *

"I thought we were just going to talk to Samuelson," Bradford protests as Armstrong puts together his questions for interviews at the prison.

"If he is Rosalind's new apprentice, we don't want to show our hand," Armstrong explains. "We don't want to tip her off either. If he's just one of a bunch of guys we question, he won't stand out. We'll also be gathering more information. We're going to have to keep it cool, Bradford. Are you ready for this?"

"I can handle it, Armstrong."

"Good. You hold back and let me ask the questions, all right? But use your street eyes to look for reactions."

"I've been trying to teach Chen how important the eyes are," Bradford offers. "I can use mine."

"Good. How is Chen?"

"She's having a rough time, but she's a fighter. She's going to make it."

Armstrong rearranges a pile of personnel folders. "She'd have to be a fighter to put up with you. Let's do this."

* * *

Samuelson gazes mildly across a sturdy table at Bradford and Armstrong. "Of course I interact with Rosalind Dyer, she's on my block. She's actually less trouble than some of the other inmates. They try to attack me, grab my gun. Rosalind just talks."

"What does she talk about?" Armstrong asks.

"The world. How things work. What people do."

"How about what she did?" Bradford demands.

"I don't know that much about that," Samuelson claims.

"How about Antonio Hernandez?" Armstrong questions. "You know him?"

"He was on a different shift. I heard he blamed Rosalind for trying to bomb that cop. But every inmate here blames what they do on someone, except Rosalind. She understands how to take responsibility."

Armstrong forces his fingers not to curl into fists. "And you find that admirable?"

Samuelson smiles. "No, but it is refreshing."

* * *

"Samuelson's Rosalind's new puppet," Bradford insists as soon as he and Armstrong are out of range of prison surveillance.

"He had all the signs," Armstrong agrees, "but you know as well as I do that we haven't got any proof, Tim. I'll put a 24/7 watch on him. If he's working for Rosalind, he'll reveal it soon enough, possibly by trying to finish what Hernandez tried to do, and take out Nolan. Harper will be watching her Rookie's ass on duty, and I'll make sure John knows to look out for Samuelson when he's off the clock."

* * *

"Boot, what's going on?" Nyla askes as Nolan stares at the text on his phone. "You look like you're going to puke."

"Armstrong thinks another one of Rosalind Dyer's minions may be after me, a guard named Samuelson. He's going to put a watch on him, but it seems like we just got Hernandez. Rosalind's focused on me. I wonder if there's any way we can stop her."

"Dyer's in the highest level of security, which means she has very few contacts. She can't talk to the other inmates, her lawyer hasn't fallen under her spell, and she's scraping the bottom of the barrel with her pet guards. You managed to spot Hernandez on your own. This time you'll have me and Armstrong's units looking out for you. If Samuelson is after you, we'll stop him."

"And then what?" Nolan demands.

"Then you keep hanging in until all Rosalind's strings are cut. I've been there, Boot, looking over my shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. But the puppet masters always have a weakness. Rosalind's running out of options. You have good instincts. You'll survive until she does."

"Did I just get a compliment from my T.O.?"

"Don't let it go to your head, but I'll cover your ass when you go see your Councilman."

"Armstrong's guys should be on me by then."

"Yeah. I want to check out who he's got. I've invested too much time in you to have to start over with a new boot. And I bought a drawing table for Lila. I need you to put it together."

"Ah, now I know why you don't want to switch rookies. The only time West knows one end of a hammer from the other is when it's part of a gun. My assembly skills will be at your service."

* * *

Before knocking on Lucy's apartment, Rachel reexamines the book that a co-worker urged her to take to Lucy. She'd talk about it with Tim, but he's concentrating on making sure that the monster who had Lucy abducted can't hurt anyone else. Rachel's not about to interrupt him, and he might not take it well if she did. They've been together for months, and she still hasn't got him completely figured out. Of course, that's part of the attraction, but it can still be frustrating. She flips through "Battle in Blue, a Cop's Journey Back." Rachel's not fooling herself that Lucy can beat PTSD by reading a book, but the story is right on point. She wants to see her friend anyway.

Lucy can tell from the rap on the door that her visitor isn't Bradford, Nolan, or her mother. Jackson is having dinner with Sterling, and he'd use his key anyway. He calls out when he comes in, to make sure she knows it's him. "Hey, Luce!" Rachel yells through the door.

Lucy fumbles to open it, struggling with the lock. "Hey, Becka! You're the first non-cop or family member who's come to see me. Did you bring chocolate?"

Rachel opens her oversized purse pulling out a gold-embossed box. Belgian. Are you going to let me in?"

Lucy realizes that she's standing in the doorway and steps aside. "I can make coffee or Jackson bought a case of Snapple Diet Trop-a-Rocka Tea. His boyfriend is hooked on the stuff."

Rachel drops the chocolate on the table and digs out the book she brought. I don't need anything, Luce. but I do want to give you something besides a taste of extra-dark heaven. This is the firsthand account of a cop who was kidnapped and made it back to duty. If you're up to reading it, I thought it might help. I can sit with you while you see if you can get into it."

Lucy takes in the hopeful look on Rachel's face. "Sure, Girlfriend. I'll give it a shot."


	18. Chapter 18

Restoration

Chapter 18

Nolan isn't sure what makes him more nervous, the thought that Rosalind might be sending another of her apprentices after him or his meeting with Councilman Abbot. Right now, the two fears are fighting each other for supremacy. With Harper in her car behind him, her sharp gaze surveying the area for any threats, the meeting is winning out. He pulls into the parking lot near the councilman's office, shoves his off duty piece at the small of his back, and gets out of his serviceable truck. If the councilman sees the vehicle, it may add to his credibility as someone who knows his way around a construction site.

The wheels on Abbot's chair squeak as he pushes out of his seat to shake John's hand. "It's good to see you again, Officer Nolan. I admit I'm curious about ideas concerning renewal, especially from the cop who saved my butt. I don't think I thanked you properly for that."

"Not necessary, Sir," Nolan replies as Abbot waves him to a chair. "Protecting you and anyone else in L.A. is my job, which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you. In my life before police work, I was a contractor in Foxburg, Pennsylvania. I built just about everything from dog runs to six-bedroom houses. Given the L.A. housing market, I decided the only way I could afford a decent home would be to buy one out of foreclosure and rehab it. I'm in the midst of that process now, and I couldn't help noticing how many houses in my neighborhood are standing empty or even scheduled for demolition, at no small expense to the city. With some TLC, those houses could hold families that are out on the street now. It would be a win-win situation for everyone."

"I agree that demolition should not be the answer, Officer Nolan. That's why that guy you arrested threw a punch at me. But right now, what you're talking about is a rough concept. Putting it into action will take time, money, and the support of the community. How do you propose to make that happen?"

John scoots his chair closer to Abbot's desk. "I was hoping to pick your brains about that, Sir, if you support the idea. Perhaps the city has a grant of some type that could pay for materials. Police come face to face with the homeless problem every day. If we put together a viable approach to the problem, I believe I could enlist the help of fellow officers to drum up enthusiasm and volunteer labor."

Abbott strokes his roughening jaw. "Give me some time to think about the details, Officer Nolan. If your project looks feasible, I'll be in touch. I take it that my office has your number."

"Yes, Sir, but," John pulls a card from his shirt pocket, "this is all my contact information, including my private email and badge number. Please feel free to send me any questions that come up."

Abbot rises as a visible cue to the end of the meeting. "Thank you, Officer Nolan. I appreciate your dedication to serving the people of this city."

* * *

Harper's eyes sweep over any approach to Nolan's car. It was easy enough to spot the babysitters who should be following him as soon as he finishes with the councilman. She hopes that they gain in effectiveness what they lose in subtlety. She'll be watching how good a job they do following John home and clearing the area. Then she'll order the drawing table that she dreamed up for Lila. Maybe she'll order shelves too, or get John to build some. Her excuse for watching his back was off the cuff, but her daughter does need places to work on her art and store her supplies. Nolan had remarked on the girl's talent, something Nyla had already observed. Unfortunately, her ex, Donovan, is too practical to lend much support to his daughter's dreams of being an artist. Dreams can get you through almost anything. Over the past few years, Nyla's been forced to experience that firsthand.

* * *

Nolan tries the best he can to settle down for the night. He'd like to call Grace, just for the comfort of hearing the sound of her voice. Even more than that, he'd love to spend another night at her apartment, on the couch, or wherever. But if he is Rosalind's obsession and a target of her newest apprentice, the last thing he needs is to pull Grace, or God forbid, Oliver, into it. He has his alarm system set. Armstrong's detail is outside. He should be fine. He just has to get that message from his brain to his stubbornly wide-open eyes.

* * *

For 18 months, Grace hasn't felt lonely in her queen bed. After her separation, the emptiness on the other side was a relief. She no longer had to try to convince herself she still harbored feelings that were long gone — if she'd felt them in the first place. She can't help believing that there's always one love that burns in your memory and heart, no matter who comes along later. For her, that love was John Nolan. She'd convinced herself that it was eclipsed by pain and resentment, but after his explanation and apology, she feels little of either, just a glowing ember of attraction slowly being fanned to flames.

They're not college kids anymore. For God's sake, John has a son the age he was when they were together. And Grace has Oliver. The boy changes everything. Whatever she does has to be with his best interests in mind. Is that getting involved with John again? She honestly doesn't know, but she'll have to figure it out. She wonders if John's asleep yet. She'd really love just to hear his voice. She did leave a few of John's voicemails on her phone. For now, listening to those will have to do.

* * *

Lucy's body refuses to follow her command to lie down, at least not all the way down. She's propped against pillows, knees bent and the soles of her feet flat against the sheet. The book Becka brought is up against her thighs. The two women went through a lot of the text together before Becka left for the night, but they didn't finish it.

It's no secret how the story will come out. The summary is on the back cover. The cop wins the battle to return to duty. The vital thing to Lucy is how. Thank God, the fight isn't portrayed as simple, or anything but three steps forward and two steps back. At least Lucy can trust that it wasn't sugar-coated. Recovery isn't easy or straightforward, and there are relapses. She's hanging on to that last part. Just because she has a bad minute or hour or night, is no reason for Lucy to give up on herself. If there's anything she's sure of, it's that she wants to be a cop. She gave up John Nolan for her career. There's no way that Rosalind or Caleb or anyone is going to take what she's fought so hard to achieve, away from her.

Slowly her eyelids drift closed as her heels slide down the sheet, and she pulls the extra pillows from beneath her head. Finally, she nods off, the book still beneath her hand, a talisman to banish the terrors from her dreamscape.


	19. Chapter 19

Restoration

Chapter 19

Samuelson knows better than to linger in Nolan's neighborhood. That's how that idiot Hernandez got himself caught. If he does decide to use an explosive device, he sure as hell won't have to be just down the block to detonate it. But Rosalind had other ideas anyway, things requiring more finesse than a bomb. Amusement lit her face as she drew a verbal portrait of Nolan as the indefatigable good guy. He'll do the right thing even when it turns his stomach. L.A. is full of stomach-turning things, especially for cops. Samuelson just needs one of them to attract Nolan's attention, and then he can strike. But first, he has a little shopping to do.

* * *

Lucy almost turns around at the door of Behavioral Sciences Services. The interim captain will never return her to duty without a sign-off from B.S.S., but she's not sure she'll pass muster. She's pretty much been able to hold the flashbacks at bay, and she slept almost all the way through last night, with the book Becka brought at her side. It's in her purse now. Just knowing it's there is calming, but it may not get her through her appointment.

Her mother clinically told her what to expect, and Tim was encouraging when he called. Her T.O. going out of his way to be nice might be the most disturbing thing of all. She takes a deep if shaky breath. She'll never know if she doesn't try.

* * *

Bradford slaps his palm against the dash of Armstrong's unit. "What the f**k is Samuelson doing at a hardware store?"

"Who knows?" Armstrong replies. "Maybe he's putting up shelves in his apartment or something."

"Or building a bomb, like Hernandez."

Armstrong shakes his head. "I doubt that Rosalind would have him repeat a method. If Samuelson does go after Nolan, she'd want him to do it in a way that wouldn't raise his suspicions."

"Maybe," Bradford agrees grudgingly, "but I don't like it."

"Think of it this way," Armstrong proposes, "whatever Samuelson is up to, we'll be right on his ass. And Nolan is on patrol with Harper. Samuelson is nowhere near him. If he does get close, we'll see it. And I don't think you're this jumpy about Nolan. What's going on, Bradford?"

"Chen's going to B.S.S. today."

"That's S.O.P. They've got to check her out."

"I know. But Rachel is worried about it." Bradford insists.

"Rachel," Armstrong repeats. "So it's your girlfriend who's worried, not a T.O. feeling guilty about his boot being caught off-guard."

"I told her to go out and get a drink. If I hadn't, Caleb never would have gotten to her."

"Damn, Bradford! You know better than that. If Rosalind wanted Caleb to grab Chen, he would have done it, whether she went to that bar or not. And if Chen needs more help or time, it's B.S.S.'s job to see that she gets it."

"Maybe. In my experience, they miss what's right in front of their faces. They couldn't… They didn't…" Tim scrubs a hand over his eyes to banish visions of Isabel ravaged by addiction. "Never mind."

"I have a feeling that what's really bothering you isn't just about Chen," Armstrong returns. "But if you don't want Rosalind's errand boys doing any more damage, keep your head in the game. Samuelson's coming out, and he has a load of stuff, including some lumber. Maybe he is putting up shelves."

Bradford grunts. "I wouldn't put money on it."

* * *

"Boot, are you with me?" Harper demands.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was thinking about my meeting with Abbot."

"Rosalind Dyer may have sent a killer after you, and you're thinking about your meeting with your Councilman?"

"At least that was something over which I had some control. If I screwed it up, it was my fault. I had nothing to do with creating a psychopath or the men she lures into her service. And Armstrong is keeping me away from the case."

"You're not responsible for politics, either, Nolan. If Abbot goes along with you, it will be because he gets something out of it."

"That's cynical, Harper."

"It's experience. I spent years fighting a war we can never win. I nearly lost everything because that crusade gave the politicos something to run on. The only way you'll get to be Captain Do-Good, is if your goals benefit Abbot's ambitions."

"Well, if they do, I'll accept it. At least we'll be getting the right thing done."

Harper rolls her eyes. "Just concentrate on getting the right thing done now. If you're distracted, it's both our asses."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

"This isn't the way to his apartment. Where the hell is Samuelson going with all that crap he bought?" Bradford exclaims.

"We'll find out," Armstrong declares. "Looks like he's heading into Mid-Wilshire's jurisdiction."

"Which covers a lot of territory," Bradford remarks. "Just stay on his tail."

"Bradford, if you don't think I can do what I've been doing for the last ten years, we can switch drivers when Samuelson stops," Armstrong offers, his voice taking on an edge usually reserved for A.D.A. Del Monte.

"Sorry," Bradford apologizes. "I'm just…"

"Yeah, I know," Armstrong acknowledges. "Look, we've both had more than our share of loss. I understand that you don't want another one. But that means letting me do my job, OK?"

"Yeah. Sorry man. Oh! He's pulling up around the side of that restaurant."

"We'll make sure he goes in, and then we can pick up his trail when he's finished eating," Armstrong decides.

Samuelson remembers the Easy Spoon, which, when he bussed tables there as a student, was unaffectionately known as the Queasy Spoon. One thing he knows a lot about is how much garbage it creates in a day. The dumpster will be half full before the end of the lunch rush. He can grab some steak and eggs. The kitchen never made too much of a mess of those. After he's finished eating, he can slip out the back, gather what he needs and take it back to his car. Anyone in the restaurant or out front, won't even see him do it.

Tim drums his fingers on the passenger side door of Armstrong's unit. "He's been in there too long. A place like this draws customers who don't have much time for lunch, mostly retail workers. Tables turn over fast. We should check if he's still in there."

"If either of us walks in and starts looking around, it will spook him. I'll drive onto the side street and check for his car," Armstrong decides.

Bradford punches his fist against the windshield. "Damn! No sign of it. He got away from us."

"Put out a BOLO," Armstrong instructs. "We'll cruise around and try to spot him again. He can't have gone far. And he might be heading back to his apartment. Ask Nell to send someone that way to check for his car. We'll pick him up again, Bradford."

Tim picks up the radio muttering, "But what the f**k will he be doing until we do?"

* * *

Samuelson unloads the contents of his trunk into a corner of an unkempt lot. There are four cars on the other side of the stretch of scraggly grass, but no one is around to bother him. He's free to set his trap.

* * *

"Can we swing by that lot where those four homeless families park their cars?" Nolan requests. "I want to make sure no one's trying to rip them off. They said they send their kids to school, and the parents will be working or looking for work. Someone could break into those vehicles."

"You never stop, do you, Nolan? All right. We'll have a look. Half the time, pushers are trying to do business on that corner anyway."


	20. Chapter 20

Restoration

Chapter 20

The words Rosalind whispered to him pound in Samuelson's brain. "Nolan is a boy scout. He can't stop himself from trying to help. That's how you pull him in." Samuelson planned every step with exquisite care. He knows just how to build what he needs and has his bait ready. He won't fail like Hernandez. He can't fail.

Samuelson stares across the browning grass of the lot with disdain. Imagine families having so little ambition as to be willing to live in their cars. It's disgusting, but it's the kind of scene that's a siren song for Nolan. The drug activity a few feet away also merits police presence. Samuelson will appear as the vilest of the unwashed hoard, but he has some building to do first. His contrivance will be perfection, but with a deadly purpose that no police officer would perceive. Not until it's too late.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Nolan exclaims. "That guy's drunk or texting. He almost ran up on the sidewalk. He could kill someone." He reaches for the loudspeaker as Harper activates the lights and a short burst of the siren. "Sir, pull over," Nolan commands.

The weaving car in skids sideways, metal grinding as it impacts the curb. The driver slumps over the wheel. Nolan bounds out of the shop, calling for medical help as he approaches the crashed vehicle. He shouts to the driver and pulls at the door before using his window punch tool to shatter the window and feel for a pulse. "He's alive and breathing," Nolan calls to Harper. "I hope he stays that way. I smell acetone, not alcohol. He's probably in a diabetic coma."

Nyla nods. "The paramedics can test his blood and give him what he needs. Their E.T.A. is two minutes."

"Good. I'll call Grace later to check on how he's doing."

Nyla almost gives in to a smile. "Of course you will, Five Percent. And I suppose you want to make sure that as soon as we're finished here, we check on those homeless families."

"Yeah," John admits, "I do."

* * *

Preparing for the next step of his plan. Samuelson moves his car to a parking spot in front of a strip mall two blocks away. Curious cops won't I.D. him by his license plate. Returning to the lot, Samuelson fights his urge to recoil from the dumpster contents he piles all over himself. Can't bring in the rat without the cheese. The structure he's erected above him will be stable — until he decides it shouldn't be. Doom will fall on Nolan, and Rosalind will be pleased.

* * *

"Someone new for you to worry about," Harper notes, pointing at Samuelson's hastily constructed shelter. "Look at all that crap."

"Whoever is under all of that has to be mentally ill," Nolan concludes. "Who knows what condition they're in? I'm going to check it out."

Nolan regards the structure over the garbage blanketed man. It took some work to put that up, but even before he became a cop, he met some troubled people who still had a talent for building things. He gave a couple of them work when he could. But the man who erected what Nolan is looking at might not have that kind of skill. Something looks…

Samuelson lets out a loud groan as he presses his foot against a loosely attached brace, setting up for the kill. Nolan rushes forward. Bending over the man beneath the trash, he hears a creak, the kind he always dreaded hearing on a construction site. Instinctively, he pulls back the split-second before Samuelson kicks the brace loose and rolls out of the way. Lumber rains down, pelting John's shoulders and back and knocking him to the ground.

Harper sprints toward the collapse. "Nolan!"

John forces himself to his knees as Samuelson takes off. "I'm OK. Get him, Harper!"

Nyla tackles a fleeing Samuelson to the ground. "Damn, Boot! Beneath all this sh*t, he fits the description Armstrong put out on Samuelson."

* * *

Grace gently examines the bruises blooming on Nolan's skin. "Your x-rays are negative, but you're going to be sore for a while. And the man who crashed his car is going to be all right. You could use a couple of days off, John."

Nolan winces as he shakes his head. "I can't take them."

"If you need a doctor's note, I can write you one," Grace offers.

"That's very generous, but that's not why I want to stay on the job. Samuelson's attack on me gives us a direct connection to Rosalind Dyer, and she doesn't know it yet. Armstrong is going to drag everything out of him that he can. I appear to be Rosalind's focus. They may need me."

Grace pales. "John, you're willingly making yourself the target of a psychopath."

"I'm already a target, Grace. Armstrong's trying to eliminate her reach beyond the prison once and for all. I might not even be able to help, but if I can, I need to do it."

"Take care of yourself, John, and for the next couple of days, ice those bruises. After that, put some heat on them."

"Thanks, Grace. I will," John promises.

* * *

Arms wrapped around his knees, Samuelson rocks back and forth on the bench in his holding cell. "You can't do anything to me. I failed Rosalind. I'm dead anyway."

"You don't have to be," Nick Armstrong suggests. "You haven't killed anyone yet. You help us out, and the A.D.A. will ask the judge for leniency for you. Believe me; he's good at it. Too good. Rosalind has no way yet of knowing that you didn't succeed. We can convince her that you did."

"And Rosalind will love me again?" Samuelson hopes.

Armstrong closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Rosalind isn't capable of loving anyone, but she will still consider you useful, which will stop her from activating another apprentice while we keep her from carrying out her plans through you."

Samuelson stills. "How the hell do you think you'll do that?"

"We'll need some help from John Nolan."

Nolan looks up from the autopsy table. "I never realized how uncomfortable these things are, but then anyone they normally accommodate is beyond caring."

Armstrong studies Nolan's face. "The job that makeup artist Sterling Freeman sent over did is very convincing. If you don't talk or breathe, you'll look dead."

"How long can you hold your breath?" the L.A.P.D. photographer Armstrong tagged for the operation asks.

"I don't know," John confesses, "a minute, maybe."

The shutterbug raises his camera. "That should be enough."

* * *

"Did you get the results of your evaluation yet?" Jackson asks Lucy as she emerges from her room.

"I'm supposed to go back to B.S.S. tomorrow morning so the doctor can discuss them with me."

"Is that good or bad?" Jackson wonders.

"I don't know, I asked my mother, and she said that it could go either way. So, I guess I'll have to make it through another night. I don't think I'll be able to sleep until I find out if I can go back to work."

"I can stay up with you," Jackson offers.

"No, you have to be fully alert when you go on duty. I'm going to be online with Nolan. He has to stay out of sight for Armstrong's operation, so he's not going in to work tomorrow, at least not until they call him. He'll probably spend the day spackling. Well, at least he gets something useful done."

"So will you, Lucy," Jackson asserts. "After tomorrow, you'll be back on the street with Bradford."

Lucy rummages in a cabinet for a package of Oreos. "I hope so."


	21. Chapter 21

Restoration

Chapter 21

Rosalind fingers herself as she studies the autopsy photos Samuelson brought her. "I think I'm going to miss Nolan. He was like having a big dumb puppy. I could do anything to him, and he would whimper for more."

"But I did what you wanted, right?" Samuelson presses. "I did a good job."

"You did an adequate job," Rosalind judges. "It doesn't look like he suffered much—no jagged wounds. He must have died instantly. You don't get as many points for that or as big a reward. But you can make it better."

"What do you mean better?" Samuelson demands.

"I want to go to his funeral."

"Rosalind, I can't authorize getting you out for that." Samuelson protests, jumping back as Rosalind springs from her stripped bed, shaking her head.

"I know every rule here, Apprentice, and how to get what I want. I just need you to carry a message for me."

"Where?"

"The D.A.'s office."

Armstrong's fist pounds the metal wall of a van outside the prison as he watches the feed from Samuelson's button camera. "That sonofabitch Del Monte! That's why he made the deal. She's been controlling him all along."

"What are you going to do?" Nolan asks.

"I'm going to have to let it play out until we nail the bastard. Then we can cut Rosalind's strings once and for all," Armstrong declares grimly.

"Does he know I'm alive?"

"The only people who know that are the ones we needed to set up our charade — and your friend, the doctor."

"She lives and breathes privacy. She's not going to tell anyone."

"Good. So we let Samuelson carry Rosalind's message to Del Monte. We fake your funeral if we have to. How long can you hold your breath?" Armstrong inquires.

Nolan sighs. "Why is everyone always asking me that?"

* * *

Del Monte studies the note delivered by Rosalind's new errand boy. "So Officer Nolan is her freshest kill, and she wants to see him go into the ground. The burying was never her favorite part, but she still got off on it. They've both loved torture since they were children, and he ran into her in the woods while she was vivisecting a neighbor's cat. She let Sean play with some of the pieces. They'd shared their lust ever since, making love as victims slowly bled out or smothered — until Armstrong put her in prison.

Damn, Armstrong anyway! Sean threw every obstacle he could in the detective's path, but he wouldn't quit. Even as Armstrong's wife lay dying, he was obsessed with catching Rosalind. Sean did everything he could to screw up the case, dealing years of countless victims down to three, but with Armstrong bucking him all the way, that was as far as he could go. Still, Rosalind managed to take her pleasures by proxy, and Sean enjoyed them with her. He'll revel in watching Nolan's dead body descend into the grave almost as much as Rosalind will. And she'll find a way to keep going. She always does.

* * *

The second Grace can get someone to cover for her; she rushes to Mid-Wilshire. The report she saw on the web of an unnamed cop succumbing to injuries sustained at a homeless site can't be about Nolan. John was banged up, but that was all unless she missed something. She hurries toward Armstrong's office, where the detective is behind his desk, gulping coffee. "Is the dead cop John?"

"Close the door," Armstrong urges.

Grace kicks it shut with the sole of her on-your-feet-eight-hours-a-day shoe. "What's going on, Nick?"

"Look, Grace, you saw Nolan. You know he's fine, but that's something you're going to have to continue keeping to yourself. We didn't put Nolan's name out there because he wants to make sure we don't scare his family, but the leak is designed to point to him. His supposed death is part of a plan to strip Rosalind Dyer of every tool she has to continue sending out apprentices to make her kills. It's possibly the most important part."

"So, where is John? Can I see him?"

"He's at a safe house, and no, I'm sorry, you can't. Too many people know of your connection with our division and your friendship with Nolan. If you're seen, you'd put him, and possibly yourself and others in danger. But everything will be over soon, I promise."

"All right, when you see John, tell him… Hell, I don't know what you should tell him."

"That you were worried about him, Grace. I'll pass on the message," Armstrong promises.

* * *

"I don't care what the regs say," Del Monte proclaims. "If we're ever going to locate all of Rosalind Dyer's victims, we need to grant this request. She's going to be transported to that funeral."

Sean holds the phone away from his ear while an official at corrections complains about budget and manpower. Sean has enough problems like that himself but making Rosalind unhappy trumps any of them. She'll have her moment. They both will. The coming morning they'll share the ecstasy of the kill.

* * *

Armstrong points to an oxygen generator tucked into a coffin. "Hopefully, you won't be in there long enough to need that, but you won't have to be afraid of running out of air. The only statement we've made to the press is that at the wishes of the family, the identity of the dead cop is being held back through the mourning period, and the ceremony will be private. No viewing, but Rosalind may ask Del Monte to demand that she get a look inside the casket."

"While I'm holding my breath," Nolan notes resignedly.

If Del Monte lets her have what she wants, it will give us one more piece of evidence to hang him on, but we'll still need whatever they say to each other."

"How are you going to get it?" Nolan queries.

"Two ways, just in case. We're going to keep Rosalind confined to that prison wheelchair and bug it. We're bugging your coffin too."

John runs his hand over his eyes. "You would not believe the visual I just got."

Armstrong lays a hand on John's shoulder. "Hang in there, Nolan. It's going to be over soon."

* * *

Rosalind would have loved a formal police funeral with rifles firing and the cops in dress uniforms, but the simple graveside ceremony fits the aw-shucks humble Nolan. It also puts her almost on top of Nolan's grave. She'd peg the number of attendees at no more than a dozen. She recognizes a few of the cops that she led around by the nose in Griffith Park. She assumes the rest of the gathering must be family. Del Monte is standing 2 feet away, and she can feel the heat of anticipation flowing between them.

A large black cop with sergeant's stripes clears his throat. "As many of you know, I gave John Nolan a hard time, but he stood up to whatever I threw his way, proving himself more than worthy of his badge. Even while fighting for his place on the force, John was one of the most compassionate souls I have ever known. When he swore to protect and serve, he meant every word of it. The way he lived was the way he died, reaching out a helping hand. I have no doubt that the arms of the angels will reach out to him. We are committing John Nolan to the ground, but his spirit will soar to the heavens."

"I want to see him. I need to say goodbye, " Rosalind calls out loudly.

While protestations rumble through the mourners, Del Monte demands the opening of the coffin. Rosalind looks in at Nolan's artfully made-up face. "Goodbye, boy scout. Sean made sure I could watch your send-off, as unimpressive as it is. It was fun knowing you. And even more fun having you killed," she adds in a whisper. "Sean enjoyed it too."


	22. Chapter 22

Restoration

Chapter 22

Unable to hold his breath or his response any longer, Nolan pushes up on his elbows. Sorry to disappoint you and Sean, Rosalind. No, on second thought, I'm not sorry at all."

Armstrong signals the cops playing mourners to move in. "Wait!" Sean Del Monte protests. "You're making a mistake. Can't you see? I'm one of the good guys. Rosalind is trying to frame me."

Armstrong snaps his cuffs on Del Monte. "You'll have plenty of chance to plead your case, asshole."

Rosalind looks up with a radiant smile. "Go ahead and send me back to prison, Nick. I'll find a way to have my fun. I always do."

Shaking his head, Nick extends his hand to help John out of his casket. "Good job, Nolan. You should go call that doctor of yours. She's worried about you. But better get rid of the makeup first. You look like death."

John claps Armstrong on the arm. "That was the idea, wasn't it?"

* * *

"How the hell did he pass vetting?' Armstrong mutters to himself as he hunches over a background check of Del Monte. Whatever led the A.D.A. to get tangled up with Rosalind must have started early, early enough to escape notice. And there it is! They grew up in the same hometown in rural Northern California. Del Monte's family moved before he started high school, so his years as a kid went unnoticed.

There must be archived records of what was going on in Landersville while the two junior crazies were running around — newspaper clippings, something. Nick won't need them to make a case against Del Monte, or a new case against Rosalind, but he still needs to know. This is going to take coffee, lots of it. And he hopes that someone brought doughnuts.

* * *

John is drying off when his cell dings a text. At least he wasn't still in the shower. He picks up his cell and whistles. It's a message from Councilman Abbot. He thinks John's project is viable and wants to discuss it further. Abbot has time the next day, which after his charade, Nolan has off. John quickly texts his acceptance of the appointment. He should celebrate. Armstrong told him he should call Grace. But it might not be a bad idea to get dressed first.

Grace lights up almost as much as the screen of her phone when she sees the caller I.D. "John, I'm relieved to hear from you. When I heard a cop had been killed at a homeless site, it knocked me for a loop, and then when I couldn't reach you… I mean, Armstrong said you were OK, but still…"

"Grace, I'm so sorry you worried, but what we did worked. We found Rosalind's big-shot connection. He helped her pull off her torture and murders. But we have both of them now. No one else should have to go through what Lucy did."

"Of course, John, you're right," Grace acknowledges. "But it's good to hear your voice."

"Do you have to go home to take care of Oliver after your shift?" John wonders.

"No. My ex picked him up at school. They'll be together for the next couple of days."

"In that case, do you have any dinner plans?"

"Not unless you count throwing a salad together and microwaving a frozen entrée," Grace confesses.

John winces. He's nuked more freezer-burned meals than he'd like to think about. "I believe we can do better than that. Do you still like pasta? I discovered an interesting little restaurant when Harper and I busted a guy who was trying to rob the place. Can I pick you up at the hospital?"

"I don't want to leave my car there. How about my apartment, around seven-thirty?"

"It's a date. It is a real date, isn't it, Grace? I have some great non-job-related news to share."

"Yeah, John, it's a real date. Now you've got me curious, but I have to get back on duty. See you later."

"See you soon."

Grace gazes around the tiny eatery. There are only ten tables, but the aroma emanating from the kitchen is fantastic, as is the freshly baked bread she and John are sharing. "I'm almost glad someone tried to rip this place off. There's only a small sign outside. I would never have known it's here."

"When Harper and I were taking statements, the owner told me that he likes it that way," John explains. "The restaurant is family run and doesn't advertise. People find out about it strictly by word-of-mouth, but there's never an empty table, and they always know exactly how much food to order and how much staff they'll need to keep things running. I figure that they make out a lot better than a lot of bigger fancier places. Of course, it doesn't help that from what we've tasted so far, the food is to die for. Oops, given recent events, I should probably rephrase that."

"More like to live for," Grace suggests. "And what is the good news you promised me?"

"Councilman Abbot is on board with my plan to fix up houses for the homeless. I have a meeting with him tomorrow to talk about it."

Grace leans across the table to deliver an impulsive kiss. "That's great, John. And I can't imagine anyone better to figure out how to make it work than you. You understand the need, and unlike most of us, you know how to hammer a nail in straight."

"Do I detect the hint of a D.I.Y. disaster?' John inquires. "I used to fix a lot of those."

"Not a disaster, exactly. Oliver did some drawings in art class, and they're really good. I bought frames for them at the hobby store, and I was trying to put them up. But I couldn't find the studs, and my nails kept falling out of the drywall. I tried some of those anchors, but all I got was bigger holes. Then I tried tape, but it came off and took some of the paint with it. If I ever move, there goes my security deposit."

John chuckles. "I think I can find the studs and put things up for you. Your apartment's all Navajo white. It won't be hard to match. I have tools in my car, and we can run by the home center to get the paint, after dinner. It's open late and by now, everyone there knows me by name."

"I bet." Grace reaches for his hand. "But John, I didn't go out with you to get you to play Mr. Fixit."

"It's fine, Grace. I like being able to help you. And tell you what," John proposes, "I'll teach you what to do so that next time you can handle the situation like the totally capable woman you are. And you've given me an idea. People tend to care a lot more about their homes if they have some sweat equity. I'll talk to Abbot about setting up classes so that the homeless who don't have the skills they need can learn them. It might even help some of them snag decently paying jobs."

"That's a great idea, John. Maybe I should knock holes in my wall more often."

"Next time, you'll be able to fix them yourself." John quirks an eyebrow. "But you're more than welcome to think up some other reason for me to come by your place."

Grace pops a piece of Italian salami in John's mouth. "I'll work on that."

* * *

It's 2 a.m. when a police blotter article swims before Nick's exhausted eyes. After the discovery of the mangled remains of several missing pets in the woods outside Landersville, two suspects were picked up on suspicion of animal abuse. The names are withheld because the suspects are minors. "So," Nick murmurs at the screen, "they were into torture even then." There are probably sealed juvie files. If Nick can get them unsealed, he can establish a life-long partnership in crime. Any deal Del Monte made with Rosalind should be void, and the D.A. will be able to charge her with new crimes. With any luck, Rosalind Dyer will never see the light of day again, and things won't look great for Del Monte, either.


	23. Chapter 23

Restoration

Chapter 23

"Come on in, John," Grace invites, unlocking her apartment. "I'll make some coffee."

"Sounds good," Nolan agrees, hefting a home center bag. "After all that pasta, I'm beginning to feel a little sleepy. I might nail more than the wall when I swing a hammer."

"I wish you'd told me that before you drove me home," Grace teases as they stroll into her living room together, "but I'll make sure you're awake before you leave. You know where everything is. Make yourself comfortable."

"If I get too comfortable, I won't be able to fix your wall and teach you how to hang pictures. Where's the damage?"

"The hall outside Oliver's room. You won't have to look hard to see it."

"No problem."

* * *

Almost simultaneously, John and Grace plop down on the couch. John sighs, sinking into the cushions with his arm curling around Grace's shoulders. "It's a good thing the home center had quick curing spackle, or we'd still be at it. I don't think you'll have any more trouble putting up Oliver's masterpieces. You passed stud finding 101 with flying colors. Ooh, I must be fried. That didn't come out right."

"It's fine John, but if you're that tired, maybe you should stay instead of getting back behind the wheel. You don't have to make roll call in the morning. What time is your appointment with Councilman Abbot?" Grace asks.

"Ten a.m. What time do you have to be at the hospital?"

"Nine. I won't have to rush out of here. We could have breakfast together."

John smooths the hair out of her face. "Sounds nice. Are you still keeping the extra bedding in the hall closet?"

"John, Oliver's not here. There's no reason you should sleep on the couch."

Nolan turns to her, his large hand cradling her cheek. "Are you sure, Grace?"

Cupping the nape of John's neck, Grace stretches up for a kiss. "I'm sure John."

* * *

Waking up with Grace in his arms, John flashes back 20 years. Believing he'd found the perfect woman for him, he had visions of a future with Grace. He would be a lawyer. She would be a doctor. Together they'd take on the world. Then Sarah peed on the stick and the dream vanished.

Months ago, as he saw the anger and hurt in Grace's eyes when she faced him with his cowardice, he told her the truth. If he'd had to tell her that he was breaking up with her face to face, he couldn't have done it. But he needed to do it.

When John was 10, he and his mother had to fight for survival when his father walked out. He could never leave Sarah in the lurch like that. And he could never, never, walk away from his child. But everything has changed now. Henry is a capable young man and Sarah can take care of herself too. There's no reason John can't try for a second chance with Grace. He isn't going to walk away twice.

From long ago, John recalls the little purring noises Grace is making. They mean she's on the edge of wakefulness. It's early. They'll have time to wake each other up together.

* * *

Lucy braces herself before walking into roll call. It's always comforting having John next to her at the front table. Somehow, they managed to make the almost impossible leap from lovers to friends, and just his presence makes her feel more secure. At least there's one decent guy who's willing to be there for her with no strings. Well, actually, at least three. Jackson has been totally supportive, even breaking a date with Sterling when she needed him to stay around. And Tim, sometimes Tim's as much of a jerk as ever, but he's there for her too.

"Quiet down now," Sergeant Grey calls from the front of the room. "As most or all of you know, A.D.A. Sean Del Monte was found to be conspiring with Rosalind Dyer. This raises a huge problem for the L.A.P.D. Every case he's ever prosecuted will be subject to examination and possible appeal. Some lawyers have already moved at lightning speed to get their clients back out on the street. So far, only a couple have succeeded, but I expect the trickle to become a tidal wave.

"You'll be facing old threats alongside new ones. That means you'll have to be twice as alert. You'll also have to be twice as careful. Whenever the specter of corruption is raised, we all become suspect. Make doubly sure your body cams are functional. Document every word you say and every move you make. Any discrepancy could mean a walk for our suspects and further doubt of our credibility.

"We're going to mix it up a little today. Chen, you're going to be with Harper. Bradford, you're with Detective Armstrong. Be careful, people. That's all."

Armstrong motions Bradford into his office. "I've been tracing Del Monte's cases and contacts. They're a f***ing mess. The asshole made insane deals. He recommended maximum sentences for non-violent offenders and cut breaks for total sleazeballs, particularly when domestic violence was involved. I want to check in on the victims, make sure they're all right. From the slap on the wrist their abusers got the first time around, chances are they were afraid to ask for help a second time.

"You heard what Grey said. Isn't looking into Del Monte's cases going to make things worse for the department?" Tim wonders.

"In the short run, probably yes. But if we can get the bastards who are walking around because of him off the street again, and provide some basis for appeal for the poor guys he just threw in a hole, the whole city will be better off. There may be some narcotics cases. Can you handle that?"

"If Del Monte let the sonofabitches who got my wife hooked, off, I can more than handle making it right. Where do we start?"

"With the domestic violence cases. I worked up a list. But drugs are also involved in some of them," Armstrong adds.

The muscles in Bradford's jaw pop. "Let's go."

* * *

Springing out from behind his desk, Councilman George Abbot extends his hand to John. "Officer Nolan! Good to see you again. Have a seat. I've been running some figures for your proposal. L.A. has funds allocated for the demolition of abandoned homes. As far as I can tell, the city may save at least a small amount by transferring those funds to the project you put to me."

"Would a plan be easier to push through if the gap were larger?" Nolan inquires.

"Dollars and cents always get attention," Abbot allows. "What did you have in mind?"

"Having at least some of the people who'll be occupying the homes invest time and effort in making them livable. We both know that many of the homeless have skills. Some of the builders take advantage of that by hiring them for gigs and paying them under the table to avoid payroll taxes. For the ones that don't, we could set up classes. I may be able to teach some of them myself. I've had experience in that area. The home centers already offer classes too. The city could partner with them to bring in the unreached population that can really use the help. L.A. would spend less money and produce a more skilled workforce. Everyone wins."

"It's a good thought, Officer Nolan. I'll update my proposal and send you a copy before I submit it to the council," Abbot offers.

"Thank you, Councilman. I really appreciate the time and effort you're putting into getting my notion off the ground."

"Not a problem, Officer Nolan, but if another unhappy demolition contractor comes after me, you may have to save my ass again."

"Always ready to serve and protect, Councilman."


	24. Chapter 24

Restoration

Chapter 24

John bounds out of the elevator at the hospital and heads straight for the E.R. It should be just about time for Grace to take lunch if there's no major trauma. Grace is just pulling off her gloves as John peeks through the drapes surrounding an intake area. "Hey! Interested in grabbing something to eat?"

Grace smiles at the sound of his voice. "Oh, John, perfect timing. I'm starved, but I can't go farther than the cafeteria. I have to be able to respond to a page immediately."

"Believe me, I understand about an on-duty lunch," John commiserates. "I've left plenty of them behind when a call came in. The cafeteria's fine, or maybe the sandwich wagon in the lobby. Can we eat outside and enjoy the sunshine?"

"OK," Grace agrees, "as long as we stay close."

"You look pleased with yourself," Grace observes as she and Nolan settle on a concrete bench about 100 feet from the hospital entrance.

"I am," John admits unwrapping a foot of Italian bread stuffed with assorted cold cuts. "Things are moving along with Councilman Abbot. He accepted my notion about classes."

Grace forks up salad from a plastic container. "That's great, John! You should be able to help out a lot of people."

"That's what it's all about, isn't it?" Nolan responds. "I mean for both of us. You put people back together all day. Doing something useful makes it worth getting up in the morning, although I confess, I would have loved to have more time in bed today."

"Yeah, me too," Grace sighs,"

"So, did you have plans for tonight?" Nolan inquires.

"No," Grace confides, bumping her knee against his. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I was wondering if we could curl up with popcorn and root beer and watch a movie."

"Root beer's my favorite," Grace confesses.

John grins. "I remember. Do you still like to make floats?'

Grace tilts her head, her eyes lighting up. "I do."

"Then, I'll show up with the soda, vanilla ice cream, and popping corn, and we can take it from there," John proposes. "Around seven-thirty?"

"Sounds good," Grace agrees as an alert goes off on her cellphone. "I have to go, John. See you later."

* * *

Armstrong raps softly on the door of a house badly in need of paint. A woman opens it a crack, peering out cautiously. Nick holds up his badge. "Ms. Lawson, we're just here to check that everything's all right."

"I'm fine!" Lawson claims.

"That bruise on your cheekbone says otherwise," Bradford declares.

"What happened?" Armstrong asks.

"I fell, that's all," Margie Lawson insists. "Just go away before my husband sees you."

"Your husband, Mark Lawson?" Bradford presses.

"Yes, that's him. Now, can't you just go away?" Margie pleads. "If he sees you here, he'll think I called you. You'll make things worse. Please leave now."

"All right, Ma'am," Armstrong agrees. "Take care."

"We're not just taking off so her husband can beat on her again?" Bradford demands as Armstrong walks away from the house.

"Of course we're not! We'll pull around the corner so we can see Lawson come back. According to his record, he'll be drunk or high or both. We can use a sound amplifier, and if we hear him going after her, we arrest him and call the medics to check Margie out. And I don't know why Del Monte bounced Lawson, but we're going to find out. So settle down. We're going to be here for a while.

Lucy keeps her eyes moving, concentrating on the job. As long as she's alert to what's happening to others, she isn't dwelling on what Caleb did to her, or what might still be in Rosalind's horrific mind. "You see that?" she exclaims as a car peals out of a parking lot.

"Yeah," Harper acknowledges. "Why the hell is he in such a hurry?"

Nell Forrester's' voice flows from the radio announcing a 211 at the address in front of Harper's unit. "Seven Adam 15 in pursuit of a vehicle leaving the scene," Lucy responds as Harper floors the accelerator. The vehicle ahead roars through a red light, narrowly missing fleeing pedestrians. "Seven Adam 15 requesting backup," Lucy adds. "That idiot is going to kill someone."

"Not if I can help it," Harper declares, gunning the engine and tapping the rear bumper of the suspect vehicle.

Lucy jumps out of the unit immediately as the fleeing auto rams into the curb and comes to a sudden stop. "Exit the car," Harper demands through the unit's P.A. system.

Lucy approaches the vehicle, weapon raised. "Get out of there, now!" A lanky, blond-haired man slowly emerges with his hands up. "On the ground. Hands behind your head." The blond drops to his knees. Lucy cuffs him and recites the Miranda warning. "Harper, I recognize this guy. Bradford and I busted him my third week as a rookie. He was one of Wesley's clients."

"Yeah, Mr. Evers petitioned the court to grant me bail pending a new trial because that prosecutor Del Monte is crooked," Blondie volunteers.

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Look who's talking about crooked. You'll get a new trial, all right, for the robbery you just pulled."

"I want to call Evers," Blondie demands.

"You'll get your chance," Harper grits out.

* * *

Lopez grabs Wesley's arm as he exits an interview room. "Harper and Chen just arrested that client of yours. He pulled a robbery right after you got him out of jail. What the hell are you doing?"

"Same thing you are, Angela, my job. You know Del Monte is as dirty as they come. He suppressed evidence exculpatory to my client."

"Your client who just ripped off a liquor store."

"Allegedly ripped off a liquor store. And if he did it, a different A.D.A will have the chance to prove it, but a lot of Del Monte's cases were bogus, and you know it. Every cop here knows it. If you're going to be pissed off at someone, get pissed at whoever let him prosecute cases. I have to go. I have other clients — a lot of them. I'll see you later."

Lopez shakes her head as she stares after her retreating lover. At least he seems to be more like his legally obnoxious self. In a crappy way, that's something."

* * *

"Are we going to sit here and wait for that f***ing abuser to come home?" Bradford demands.

"We are," Armstrong confirms. "As terrified as his wife looked, I don't think it's going to be very long. Uh-huh. See that car about to pull into the driveway. I bet that's him. A barrel-chested man with visibly mashed knuckles emerges from a vintage Camaro. He charges through the front door of the injured woman's home. "That's Lawson! Let's go."

Mark's angry shout reaches them. "You bitch! Where's my beer?"

As Bradford reaches the confrontation, Margie is knocked to the floor, and Mark Lawson's fist is poised to deliver more damage. "You try to hit her again, and I'll shoot your hand off."

Mark Lawson turns. "Damn cops. I have dominion over her. Ephesians 5:23: 'for the husband is the head of the wife.'"

"You forgot the other part," Armstrong reminds him, " Ephesians 5:28: 'So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies.' You'll have plenty of time to review the scriptures in jail. You're under arrest."

* * *

John runs an electric razor over the late-day stubble on his face. If he's going to cuddle with Grace, his cheeks shouldn't feel like sandpaper. Not that it mattered when he woke up in her bed. The magic they'd had 20 years before returned, not with a flood of hormones, but with the flow of desire that engulfed them, shutting out the world. How compatible root beer and popcorn might be with a repeat of the experience, he has no idea, but the reestablishment of their ease with each other is a great start.


	25. Chapter 25

Restoration

Chapter 25

"Did you choose a movie?" John asks, pouring melted butter over a bowl of warm popcorn.

"I think I'm out of touch," Grace confesses. "I have on-demand, Amazon, and Netflix, but most of the time, the only movies I run here, have to be appropriate for Oliver. I don't remember the last time I watched something with a rating over PG or even G. It would be nice to see something that doesn't star animals or Pixar characters."

"I remember that stage with Henry," John recalls. "Of course back then, it was about what Sarah and I could rent. Now almost everything streams. Between studying for my rookie exam and working on my house, I haven't had much time. I haven't seen it, but Lucy and Jackson were into 'A Star is Born' because they liked singing the duet. They liked 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' 'Rocketman,' and 'Yesterday' for the music too."

"The only movie music I've heard lately has been from 'Frozen II,'" Grace confesses. "Anyway, you remember what I sound like when I sing."

John winces. "Fortunately, the music we made together wasn't vocal. How do you feel about superheroes?"

"Like I see them every day at work."

"So do I," John agrees. "So that leaves romances and documentaries. What's your all-time favorite movie?"

"It's ancient."

"So am I," John points out. "What movie?"

"'Same Time Next Year,' with Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn. It's about two people whose lives are always totally out of sync, but somehow they manage to love each other. I find that hopeful."

John quirks an eyebrow. "It's probably on Amazon, almost everything is. You want to watch it?"

"You don't mind?"

"Why should I mind?" John asks. "If I didn't look for the hope in things, I couldn't get up for work in the morning."

"Me either," Grace admits.

John leans in for a kiss. "Then I guess we've picked a movie. You want to make the floats before we watch?"

"That would be perfect."

* * *

"Are you trying to destroy the equipment or your knuckles?" Lucy asks as Bradford attacks the heavy bag. "What happened while you were working with Armstrong?"

"An asshole kicked loose because of Del Monte decided to beat up his wife, and not for the first time. If Armstrong and I hadn't been watching his place, the jerk would have killed her. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. We could be cleaning up Del Monte's mess for years."

"How about the wife?" Lucy asks. "What's going to happen to her?"

"I don't know. We took her to the hospital, and Armstrong called Victims' Services to send someone to sit with her. She was still terrified."

"Of course she was," Lucy spits out. "She still feels helpless. Until she realizes she can fight back, she'll spend her life afraid. She and women like her need someone who's worked past feeling helpless, and can teach her to kick some ass."

Bradford pulls off his gloves. "Still think you can save the world, Chen?"

"I think I might be able to save part of it, and not just with what we do on the street."

* * *

Armstrong peers in the door of the hall in the church basement. A few women are sitting in folding chairs arranged in a circle. A coffee pot and a tray of cookies sit on a table, with a man and a woman holding paper plates and cups and chatting nearby. At least Nick won't be the only man in the room if he decides to go in.

He was dealing with Rebecca's death, more or less, until he let Rosalind get under his skin again. But the minute he isn't completely absorbed in his work, the grief and the guilt come crashing in. He needs to do something, and the cookies don't look half bad. He takes a step over the threshold.

* * *

Angela Lopez slams two plates down on the table in the apartment she shares with Wesley Evers. "Are you still upset about me defending Lawson?" Wesley asks.

Angela grabs a beer out of the refrigerator and downs a long swallow. "I'm upset about all the scumbags that are out on the street because of Del Monte. And I'm upset that the D.A. never caught on to what was going on, and that Del Monte helped Rosalind go on her killing sprees and train apprentices like Caleb. What happened to Lucy never should have happened. What happened to Margie Lawson shouldn't have happened either. Del Monte sh*t on the whole city."

"The system sh*ts on this city, Angela, that's why I'm doing what I'm doing instead of using family money to set up a plush corporate law office somewhere," Wesley explains.

Angela wraps her arms around him. "I know. And I'm proud that you're still in there fighting instead of taking the easy way out. It will just be frustrating if all the Lawsons go free because of Del Monte. We've got enough to deal out there without the do-overs. But that's the way it is. Other than me and the other cops being pissed off, did you have any problems today? Flashbacks or anything?"

"No, I was good. The meds and the therapy are helping. Things seem better when I'm busy, and I think I'm going to be busy for a long time."

Angela lays her beer on the table and pulls a plastic tray out of the microwave oven. "I guess that's something."

* * *

Grace snuggles into John's shoulder as the final credits roll. "I never want this story to be over."

"If it went on any further, they'd be banging each other in heaven, assuming they could get past the adultery clause," John comments. "I mean, the way the story was structured, I was cheering for the love story, but they were still cheating on their respective spouses."

"But they still loved them." Grace insists. "I'd like to think there was enough love to go around so that nobody was cheated."

"That is a sweet way to look at it." John allows. "Did your ex cheat on you?"

"I honestly don't know, at least in the physical sense. Emotionally he was elsewhere long before we separated. We didn't see things the same way anymore and didn't want the same things — except the best for Oliver. We've always agreed on that."

"Sounds like Sarah and me. We were looking at separate paths for two years before we divorced. We just agreed to stay together until Henry was old enough to be on his own." John closes his eyes and shakes his head. "The ironic thing is that Henry recently confided to me that he resented being the one that made us think we had to stay together. He would have rather seen us split and be happy apart than miserable and married. There must be a lesson there somewhere, but I'll be damned if I know what it is."

"Maybe it's that there comes a time when it's better to follow your heart," Grace suggests. "You just have to be able to figure what that time is."

John pulls her close. "Do you think that moment has come, Grace?"

"I don't know yet, John. You're at the beginning of a new career. I'm still struggling with the challenge of being a good mother and a good doctor. We've both got a lot going on in our lives."

"Then I guess we take it day by day and see what happens."

"Or night by night."

John grins. "Even better."


	26. Chapter 26

Restoration

Chapter 26

"Lucy, what is so important that you wanted to meet me at 6 a.m.? Are you having flashbacks again or something?" Rachel queries.

Chen takes a sip of her coffee. "No, as long as I keep my mind on what's in front of me. I'm OK — most of the time, anyway. Lopez walked up behind me in the locker room last night, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was only for a second."

"So, what's going on?"

"Tim was telling me about the jerkoff he and Armstrong nailed for domestic violence yesterday. His wife was too scared to do anything. If Tim and Nick hadn't been there, she could be dead now."

"Yeah, Tim told me about it, too. He was pretty upset, but Lucy, the police deal with cases like that all the time. So do social services. The city is full of abusers. We all do the best we can."

Chen shakes her head. "Maybe we don't. I was thinking that the reason those women are terrified to go to the cops or leave the sonsofbitches who beat on them is they're afraid they can't take care of themselves. I know there are jobs programs, but I mean fight back, defend themselves. If they realize they can be stronger physically, they won't be as likely to put up with the abuse."

"It's not that simple, Lucy," Rachel cautions, "those women are damaged. Some of them were beaten by their parents before their boyfriends or husbands went after them. They've never felt safe. They need more than a self-defense class, a lot more."

"I know," Lucy agrees, "but I wouldn't just be teaching them to kick ass. I can share what Caleb did to me and how I'm working on getting past it. At least they'll know they're not alone, and they don't have to give up."

"You'd be taking on a lot, Luce," Rachel warns. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I'm sure I need to try," Lucy insists. "So, are you going to help me or not?"

Rachel leans across the table to wrap her friend in a hug. "Sure, I'll do anything I can."

* * *

John peers into a cabinet in Grace's kitchen. "Not one of these cereals has sugar in it. Are you going grocery shopping before Oliver comes home or preparing to treat him for withdrawal?"

"I'm not sure which would be worse," Grace confides. "I'm thinking about going around the problem for a while by having him make toast. I'll tell him to put peanut butter on it and sneak in some nutrition."

"Until he discovers adding Marshmallow Fluff to the peanut butter. Still, it's one battle you may win for a while. With Henry, Sarah figured out we could pull a switcheroo with breakfast cookies," John recalls. "She threw in oatmeal and peanut butter and raisins with a few M&Ms as cover. That worked for a good six months until the ad guys introduced a new mascot for some crap that could rot your teeth if you looked at it."

"I'd take six months, and maybe Oliver will try bananas instead of marshmallow goo."

John starts a pot of coffee. "You can always hope."

"You're pretty hopeful yourself, John. What's your next step on your project fixing up houses for the homeless?"

"Councilman Abbot is putting together the details for the first phase, but I should be able to start working with someone in a couple of weeks to fix up the first one."

"That's great, John. I…"

An alert sounds from John's cell. "I gotta go. Grey is calling us in early. It's an all hands on deck."

"What happened?"

"I don't know, but I'll try to call you later."

* * *

Spotting Jessica standing upfront, John hesitates for a moment to take his seat in the roll call room. Determined not to be distracted by old pain, he slides into place. Whatever's going on must involve national security, or Jessica wouldn't be there.

John glances toward Lucy, who returns a sympathetic look, as Grey takes the podium. "Since the Del Monte story broke, there's been a steady drumbeat for the release of prisoners who might have been unfairly incarcerated. Some of you already have experience with that. Unfortunately, another group, not associated with a Del Monte conviction, has piggy-backed on that movement. Agent Russo will be giving you the details."

Avoiding John's eyes, Jessica switches places with Grey. "Two years ago, the DHS captured Lyle Starrett, leader of the Freedom Brigade, after he was caught with a van full of bombs and had mailed several of them to news outlets including the Los Angeles Reporter. Starrett was found guilty of four homicides and numerous other counts involving injuries. He's been in Pelican Bay ever since, and his followers have been looking for some excuse to claim he was railroaded. They've jumped on the Del Monte affair as proof that prosecutions are fixed and are demanding Starrett's release. Social media are lighting up with announcements of demonstrations planned for all over California, but concentrated in L.A. We don't expect those gatherings will be peaceful, and from the history of the Freedom Brigade, ordnance will be involved. The Freedom Brigade will be sending times and places to its members and followers for pop up events. That's going to make it difficult and maybe impossible to stay ahead of them. We'll need everyone available in the L.A.P.D. ready to respond at a second's notice. Sergeant?"

Grey reclaims the podium. "Since we have no idea where the Freedom Brigade events will be taking place, I want you all to patrol as normal, but be ready to be redirected. And be careful. One of the deaths and 15 of the injuries attributed to Starrett were to law enforcement officers."

Jessica stares after John as he leaves with Nyla Harper. Breaking up with John was a mistake, a bad one. According to the grapevine, he's with the blond doctor who tried to keep her from talking to an injured undercover agent. Jess remembers the hurt on his face when she told him she was leaving to get pregnant. Sh*t! If only she'd seen her doctor about a late period before she walked out. The clock was ticking faster than she thought. Early menopause sounds too innocuous for the world-shattering reality it is. John had nothing to worry about. The odds were pretty slim of her getting pregnant with him. It's unlikely she'll get pregnant with anyone. John moved on, and right now, Jessica's job is all she has left."

* * *

"Is your mind in the game, Five Percent?" Nyla inquires as Nolan loads their gear. "From the look Russo gave you, you two were hot and heavy. Are you going to be able to keep it together?"

"I'll be fine," John assures her. "I'm just hoping that's the last we see of Jessica, um, Agent Russo. Not because of the personal thing, but she lied to me and to the DHS. She might even have endangered my son. Even when I was still with her, I wasn't sure I could trust her. Now that we have some distance, I'm even less sure."

"Listen to your gut, Boot," Nyla instructs. "Realizing when someone can't be trusted has saved my ass — a lot. And you relate to people better than any cop I've ever worked with. If you think something's not straight with Agent Russo, you're probably right."

Nolan shoves the hatch of the shop closed. "I hope she's wrong about expecting trouble today."

Nyla shakes her head. "I wouldn't count on that."


	27. Chapter 27

Restoration

Chapter 27

Nolan points at a woman fleeing into the street. "Harper! She's about to run into the side of the shop."

The aproned escapee bangs on the shop window as Nyla hard-brakes to a stop. "Please, you've got to help."

Nolan springs out of the car. "We'll help you. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm not sure. I deliver breakfasts and lunches to the offices around here. I was taking breakfast burritos to the people at the Veritas, and I saw what was happening through the glass in the door. There are men with guns in there. They have everyone down on the floor except one guy at a computer. And he's bleeding. I was going to call 911 when I saw you coming."

Harper thumbs the switch on her radio to report.

"What's your name?" John asks.

"Mercedes Moreno."

"Mercedes, we're going to get help in here, a lot of help," John assures her, "but right now, I need you to describe exactly what you saw in there. How many men with guns?"

"Six, I think. They were all wearing shirts with flags on them, with stars in a circle."

Nolan and Harper lock glances, and Nyla nods. "The Freedom Brigade."

"The man you said is bleeding, is it a lot or a little?" John queries. "Is he slumped over his computer?"

Mercedes closes her eyes to visualize the scene. "A little, I think, but I couldn't see much. And his face was bruised like someone hit him, but he was sitting up. I think they were making him type."

"What kind of guns?" Nyla asks.

"Big ones!" Mercedes shakes her head. "I don't know what they're called. I hate guns! My cousin was killed in a mass shooting in Florida. They looked like the ones they showed on the news, with those big round things."

"High capacity magazines," Nyla realizes. "I'll fill Grey in."

Mercedes swipes at her eyes. "I wish I could remember more."

"You'd did great," Nolan assures her. "Most witnesses can't remember half that much."

"SWAT is 10 minutes out," Nyla announces.

Nolan blows out a breath. "Great."

"D.H.S. is coming with Grey."

"Wonderful," Nolan mutters under his breath.

* * *

Grace whistles for attention. "We're on alert, people. The L.A.P.D. is facing a hostage situation, and there may be more. So far, we have no severe traumas incoming, but that situation could change at any moment. Try to get to as many patients as possible right now and be prepared for triage."

Grace has been here before when heavy fog on the freeway caused multiple pileups, or a crazy gunman invaded a wedding, but it feels different with John out there. He's determined to serve, to put himself out there for others, and she loves him for that. But her stomach still twists at the idea that the next time he's in her emergency room, it won't be for a laceration she can readily stitch up or bruises she can ice. Her best defense against worrying about John is to stay busy herself, and if things get critical today, she'll be more than busy, she'll be deluged. She only hopes that John won't be part of the incoming tide.

* * *

Grey springs from his shop as soon as he arrives on the scene, focusing his attention on Harper. "Sitrep."

"Nolan and I observed the situation, undetected. Six gunmen are armed with AR-15s and carrying additional high capacity magazines. Twelve hostages on the floor appear unharmed. An additional hostage is at a desk being forced to use a computer. He's injured, extent unknown."

"Windows?" Grey inquires.

"None in the immediate area where the hostages are being held, sir," Nolan replies, "but there are some in a connecting room. No clear shots at the hostage-takers, but there could be entry through the windows from the roof. The glass doesn't appear to be reinforced."

Grey nods. "Good observation, Nolan. That could be helpful. Anything else?"

"It appeared to me that the ventilation system was upgraded. A person, a smaller person, might find a way in through the ductwork, and I spotted a vent into the area where the hostages are being held."

"I'll communicate that to SWAT," Grey responds.

"Sir," Nyla interjects. "I'm smaller than most officers on the force, and I have the highest rating as a marksman. I could go in through that vent."

"Slow down, Harper," Grey advises. "We have to put a plan together, which hopefully will include the city transmitting drawings for the building and coordinating with D.H.S. SWAT will do their reconnaissance, and we'll see where we go from there."

Harper's fingernails dig into her palms. "Yes, sir."

* * *

John hears the groan of an engine as a black S.U.V. joins the L.A.P.D. vehicles. Before he sees her, he knows it's Jessica. "Looks like you haven't changed your habit of stumbling on precarious situations, John."

"It is the job, Jess," Nolan points out. "But I'm surprised you haven't decided to ride a desk. In as much of a hurry as you were for — you know — I'd think you'd already be in a situation where you'd want to stay out of the line of fire."

"Let's just say things haven't worked out the way I planned, John. So, do you have any of those insights gained from your contracting experience to share about getting to those hostages?"

"I've already communicated those to Grey. You should be consulting with him instead of a rookie who just stumbles into precarious situations."

Jessica winces. "Fine, Officer Nolan. Just watch your ass."

"I assure you, Agent Russo, I'm trying my best to do just that."

* * *

"We should be doing something!" Nolan complains to Harper, as they wait for instructions."

"I get it, Boot. But if we just go charging in there, we get hostages killed and probably ourselves too," Harper counsels. "Grey should have things laid out any minute. Yeah, he's getting on the radio."

"I want the L.A.P.D. marked units on the perimeter as back up and to intercept any fleeing suspects," Grey instructs. "SWAT is going to lead the primary assault. Agent Russo of D.H.S. will be infiltrating through the ventilation system."

Harper strides quickly to the Sergeant's command post. "Sir, I volunteered for infiltration duty."

"This is not the time for discussions, Detective Harper," Grey rebukes, picking up his radio again. "Everyone take their positions. I'll give the go signal."

Harper chases after Russo as she approaches the building and grabs Jessica's arm. "Hey! I have years of crawling through drug tunnels. I know how to get in there and get the job done."

"What's your hip measurement?" Jessica demands.

"What? Thirty-six."

"Mine's 34," Jessica informs her. "And I'd judge I'm about 4 inches shorter than you are. We looked at the plans. The ventilation ducts are narrow as hell, and I'm the smallest one here. I'll have the most room to maneuver, and you have a kid, don't you?" Harper nods. "I don't. I won't have thoughts of anyone else to distract me. We're out of time," Jessica insists and runs toward the building.

Harper takes her place behind the shop's steering wheel. "Your old pal there, has a death wish. Has she always been like that?"

John's mouth tightens to a hard line. "You ought to know about death wishes, Harper, if anyone would, but no, she hasn't. She had all kinds of plans for the future. Something happened with her, something bad."

Harper's eyes sweep the target building. "Whatever it was, I hope it doesn't make her careless. She could blow the whole operation."

"She'll be all right," John asserts. "If there's anything Jess is good at, maybe too good, it's taking out the bad guys."

Harper points through the windshield. "SWAT is moving in. It shouldn't be long now. Keep your eyes open."

John glues his eyes to the team, closing in on the building. "I'd need a piledriver to close them."


	28. Chapter 28

Restoration

Chapter 28

Jessica's never been claustrophobic. At her size, she's even comfortable in a coach airplane seat, but the ducting of the ventilation system looks tight. That she was justified in taking Harper's place is a comfort, but a small one. As she unscrews the vent that allows her entrance to the system, she wishes John were there. He could do it in less than half the time, probably with his eyes closed, but he's where he should be. And she's where she belongs — in the thick of things with nothing to concentrate on but her job.

The close quarters make it easier to work her way up to the floor above, but it will be harder to maneuver once she gets there. The tear gas canisters and respirator she has to bring with her aren't making it any easier. She'll also have to manage the tiny tool to knock out the screws from the wrong side of the vent, hopefully without any of the invaders catching on. They could shoot at her, problematical through a metal grate, or worse, they could shoot hostages. She can't let that happen.

* * *

"Boot, the way your eyes are stuck on that building, are you even blinking?" Nyla asks. "Russo and SWAT aren't going to engage until everyone except those asses from The Freedom Brigade and the people they're holding are out of the building. Part of our job is to see that they stay out of harm's way once they're clear. You'll have enough to do without worrying about Russo."

"I'm not that worried about Jessica. She can take care of herself."

Harper shakes her head in disgust. "Don't lie to your T.O., Nolan. It's a good way to get yourself killed. Of course, you're worried about her. Everyone worries about their exes, whether they deserve it or not. I worried about Donovan even when he was shafting me in court. And you and Grace were still carrying torches for each other after 20 years. That was obvious the first time I saw you together. Once an attachment gets in your brain, it's hard to let it go. So admit it and deal with it."

A smile tugs at one corner of John's mouth. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be good with people."

"You are, Boot. I'm just an expert on the lies we tell each other and ourselves. For a long time, I used them to my advantage. But they also totally screwed up my life."

"Lesson noted," John acknowledges. "Whoa, here we go. There are a bunch of people coming out. Time to get to work."

"You know it. Nolan."

* * *

As usual, Captain Digger Johnson's men are squared away and ready to go. Strategically situated on the roof, they'll be able to swing down and crash through the windows Grey's officer correctly identified as unreinforced. All Digger needs is the signal from Agent Russo that she's ready to release the tear gas. He wishes one of his own people could handle her end of the operation, but the physical dimensions are a limiting factor. Her move will need to be nearly simultaneous with his team's breach. Once the building is cleared, the assholes in The Freedom Brigade will be trying to face enemies on two fronts, blinded. Or at least that's the plan. Russo has to be able to pull off her part.

Grey is in Jessica's ear, letting her know that except for the hostages, the civilians are out of the building. A hostage negotiator will be making a call to the phone nearest the brigade before a breach is greenlighted. Jessica's been there enough times to doubt that the leader of the group will accept the call. He's a true believer. That short circuits his reasoning and makes him even more deadly. Jess will need the gas and her gun, sooner rather than later. She hears a landline ringing until the sound of metal and plastic smashing vibrates through the grate. There will be no negotiations. She secures her gas mask as Digger announces, "Ready to go at greenlight." Jess taps on her com to confirm that she's in place, and the "go" signal pours through all the coms.

Jessica pushes the vent she's already loosened, out of the way to toss her tear gas canisters. Coughing fills the room from both invaders and the hostages. Nothing Jessica can do will help the innocents with that, except proceeding with the plan. Glass crashes inward as SWAT comes through the windows. The half-blinded hostage-takers begin shooting at random, the signal for Jessica and the SWAT team to return fire.

The deadly exchange doesn't last long, but it's long enough. Members of the freedom Brigade lie wounded on the floor. Two hostages moan in pain, and Jessica struggles to breathe. A round hit her Kevlar and hurts like hell. She prays she won't have to try to get through the ductwork again.

* * *

Even at a distance, John can hear the weapons fire, too many rounds to count. He watches, frozen in place as SWAT members begin to exit the building, and paramedics rush to tend to the fallen. Where's Jess? Where the hell is Jess?

She stumbles out, on the arm of a member of the strike force who hands her off to an emergency worker. John doesn't see any blood, but at this distance, he might not. He knows the paramedics. He works with them on a too regular basis. They'll take care of Jess and anyone who was hurt and do a good job. A siren screams as the first ambulance takes off for the hospital. Later John can check with Grace about Jessica and all the others who'll be delivered into her care. But now he has work to do, a lot of it. There's one hell of a mess to clean up.

* * *

John has been waiting an hour for Grace to return his call. That's not surprising. He would have been shocked if she'd picked up right away. And he had texted that he's OK. One thing he's learned from Grey is that's what family, friends, and loved ones always want to know. The rest can wait. He isn't sure what category Grace fits in. She's not family; that's Henry. He made a deal with his son to text a thumbs-up if he could, before anything he might be involved with could hit the news. He does his damnedest to keep that promise. He's received a couple of tongue-lashings from Abigail when he didn't.

Is Grace a friend? Sure. Sort of. A loved one? They've never talked about love concerning each other, not for 20 years, anyway. There's need, but that's hardly the same thing. Both John and Grace have been through so many changes that isolating one feeling is hard, maybe impossible. Right now, John can let that confusion go. He might even want to. He and Grace care about each other. For the moment, that's enough.

A smile jumps to John's lips at the chime he uses as Grace's ring tone. He can sense her hurry as she takes no time for a hello. "Jessica Russo will be fine, John. So will the injured SWAT members. Two of the hostages had surgery and are in fair condition. Two of the Freedom Brigade members didn't make it. The others are in critical condition but have a reasonable chance of recovery.

"And how are you, Grace?" John asks as he hears her gulping air.

"Tired, but the day could have been a lot worse. Your hostage crisis involved the largest number of injuries."

"Yeah," John replies ruefully, "Harper says I have a talent for finding trouble. When are you off tonight?"

"I'm pulling a double shift, but I should have a break sometime around nine."

"Then how about if I bring you dinner? Dragon Moon? Shrimp with lobster sauce?"

"John, that sounds perfect. And I need a laugh. We probably both do, so don't forget the fortune cookies."

John smiles at her admonition. "I wouldn't dream of it."


	29. Chapter 29

Restoration

Chapter 29

"What does your fortune say, John?" Grace asks as he breaks open his cookie.

"Build it, and they will come."

"That sounds good for your project for the homeless," Grace comments.

"Depending on who 'they' are. It could just mean Lucy and Jackson heckling me. What does yours say?" John wonders.

"Those who hesitate are lost. That applies to a code blue, but I'm not so sure I like it about other stuff."

"Like what?" John asks. "The way things move around here, I can't see you hesitating about anything."

"Sometimes, watch and wait can be best. Many problems resolve on their own, given time. But that's not what patients want to hear. They come to me wanting action."

John leans over the food containers between them. "I don't think treating patients is what you were talking about."

"You're right; it wasn't," Grace confesses. "Simon told me that he wants to move to Northern California, which means rethinking our custody agreement."

"Does he have a timetable for that?" John queries.

"Tentatively. He's talking about when Oliver is out of school in June."

"That's only a couple of months."

Grace crumples the bag from the Dragon Moon. "I can read a calendar, John, but I haven't wanted to think about Simon's proposal. He wants Oliver all summer, on holidays, and long weekends. I can't imagine being away from Oliver that long or for Christmas or Easter. Those are the family times I want to remember."

"Of course you do," John agrees, reaching for her hand. "Some of my best memories with Henry are watching his face as he opened his gifts on Christmas morning — or helping him build cars or trains out of the boxes. And there's nothing like going camping, burning the marshmallows, and sleeping under the stars in the summer. Although I suppose in California, you can do that year-round. Still, you've got to talk to Simon, Grace. Work this out, for your sake and Oliver's."

"I know, John. I'm going to call Simon in the morning, and invite him to lunch," Grace decides. "Maybe we can come to an agreement over sushi."

John grimaces. "That's one California taste I haven't adopted yet. I still think of fish as something to cook, preferably fresh-caught and pan-fried. But good luck with the sushi."

"I've never had fresh-caught fish," Grace confides.

"I should take you fishing sometime. Maybe Oliver too?" John proposes. "If he doesn't want to try hooking a big one, he might like drawing the great outdoors."

A smile creeps over Grace's lips. "I think he might."

* * *

Bradford stops short as a woman frantically flags down the shop. "Officer, I was in my kitchen and heard the sound of something breaking next door. Mary Willow lives there. She's 80, and she falls down a lot. I knocked on the door, but she didn't answer, and it's locked. I was just about to call 911 when I saw you coming."

"We'll have a look. Ma'am," Tim assures her.

Lucy pounds on a door with peeling paint. "Mary, Ms. Willow, I'm a police officer. Are you all right in there?" She turns to Tim. "I thought I heard a moan.

"I did too," he responds, gaining entrance with a kick.

They can see the feet of a woman lying on the floor, sticking out from behind a large chair. Lucy rushes to her and feels for a pulse. "She's alive," she reports, grabbing her radio to call for paramedics.

Tim surveys the scene, pointing to a shattered torch lamp. "That must be what her neighbor heard. I don't see any signs of a break-in, but I'm going to look around. Stay with her."

The rising pitch of an approaching siren penetrates the walls of the house, and an ambulance pulls up behind the shop. While trying her best to concentrate on the woman in her care, Lucy's eyes are drawn by an impossibly hot firefighter. "How's she doing?"

"What? Oh, her breathing is steady, but her pulse is fast."

"OK, we'll take it from here, officer um,"

"Chen," Lucy fills in, "Lucy Chen."

"Emmett Lang." He points to the victim. "Do you know her name?"

"Mary Willow."

Emmet leans over the wrinkled face. "We're going to take care of you, Mary."

Before she shoves the thought away, Lucy can't help wondering how Emmett would take care of her.

* * *

"Nell, do you ever talk with a dispatcher from the fire department?" Lucy asks.

"Of course, we have to coordinate all the time. Why?" Nell wonders.

"I was just wondering if you knew anything about — never mind, it's stupid."

"I don't think there's anything stupid about Emmett Lang," Nell responds, fanning herself with her glasses. "He is the hottest firefighter in the city."

"How did you know I was talking about Emmett?"

Nell rolls her eyes. "Because suddenly you're sweaty, and I know you ended up on the same call today. Lucy, it's great that you're asking about Emmett. You've been living like a nun since — well, what happened to you."

"You can mention my abduction, Nell. I've had enough therapy to deal with talking about it. But I'd rather hear whatever you can tell me about Emmett. Is he seeing anyone?"

"From what I've heard, he was with someone until recently," Nell recalls, "but as far as I know, he's single now. It wouldn't be hard to have calls sent his way when you and Tim request medical assistance — if that's what you want. Do you?"

"Yeah," Lucy nods slowly. "I think I do."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rachel asks, flashing back to asking Lucy the same thing.

"Yeah, I am," Tim confirms. "Isabel was out on the streets for a year, and there was nothing I could do to help her. She was a cop, and drugs still took her down. They damn near killed her. Arresting the pushers doesn't do much to help. There's always a new one on the same corner a day or a week later. If I can help keep addicts off the stuff, it will hit those bastards where they hurt."

"All good reasons, but do you understand how tough this is going to be? Everyone you work with is going to bring back to what you felt when Isabel went off the rails. That's going to be a lot of pain, and I hate seeing you go through it."

"Is that going to be a problem for us?" Tim questions, palming Rachel's cheek.

"No," Rachel avers. "If this is what you want to do, I'm proud of you, and I'll support you as much as I can."

Tim's lips flirt with a smile. "Good. Chen's a cheerleader, but I need you on board with this."

"I am," Rachel assures him. "But I have to go check on a client now. She's just come out of an abusive situation, and she's fragile. But I'll see you later."

Tim leans in for a kiss before Rachel hurries off. He can press 225 lbs., but the door to his classroom still feels heavy to him. To Lucy, he's a seasoned training officer, possibly soon to become a sergeant. Here, despite his experience with Isabel, or maybe because of failing her, he feels like the greenest rookie. Drawing in a deep breath and mentally crossing his fingers, he chooses a seat in the front.

A woman who could be 45 or 65 takes the podium. Her mocha cream skin is almost unlined, but wisdom born of experience shines from her eyes. "I'm Lydia McDonald, director of the Wilshire District drug diversion program. I want to welcome you all to your training as volunteers."


	30. Chapter 30

Restoration

Chapter 30

Simon carefully picks up a roll of fish and rice with his chopsticks. "It's about time you decided to talk about this, Grace. I told you I was planning to move weeks ago."

"Twelve days ago, Simon," Grace corrects, "and I needed some time to think it through. I took my position at the hospital so that we'd be in the same city, and Oliver wouldn't have to spend much time shuttling between us. His teachers know both of us, and he doesn't have to continually adapt to two environments. Oliver's made friends and is looking forward to art classes in the summer. He's already acting out because of our separation. Your move is going to make things worse. Why can't you stay in L.A.?

"Because if I do, I won't have a job," Simon retorts. "The closing of our L.A. facility was only a rumor when I first talked to you about this. Now it's confirmed. The only way I can stay with the company is to move to San Jose. And even that's going to take some doing. You know how expensive housing is up there."

"It's not exactly cheap down here," Grace points out, "but it's better. You're a talented system architect, Simon. Can't you find a new job around L.A.?"

"Not without giving up everything I invested in my work with the company, including moving out here."

"The time you invested in the company is part of what blew up our marriage in the first place," Grace protests.

"Sure, and your double shifts at the hospital had nothing to do with it," Simon counters. "Look, Grace, there's one thing we still agree on, that we should make this as easy as possible on Oliver. We can wrangle over the details, but my move is going to happen, and I'm not giving up on spending time with my son. If you can figure out how I can be in two places at once, you let me know." Simon throws down his napkin, springing from his chair. "Thanks for the sushi."

* * *

"I didn't think I'd see you again so soon," Lucy greets Emmett's arrival at an accident scene. "It doesn't look too bad. I think that the drivers, especially the one complaining, are mostly shaken up."

"Shaken up my ass," Tim declares, joining them. "I thought I recognized the driver in the lead car, so I ran him. He's suspected of swoop and squats. He'll be running to some hand-picked quack to help him rip off an insurance company, and ruin the driving record of his victim. You should transport everyone involved to the hospital so a real doctor can check them out."

"Thanks for the heads up, man," Emmett replies. " Good catch. We'll make sure the necks are stabilized so they can't claim we injured them. I'd shake on it, but I'm already gloved up. When are you off tonight?" he asks, turning back to Lucy. "I was wondering if you might want to get a pizza or something."

A knot hardens in Lucy's stomach. She hasn't been out with anyone except friends since Caleb. But Emmett isn't one of Rosalind's disciples, just a nice guy, a nice gorgeous guy. "It would have to be late. I have a 12-hour shift. Eight o'clock?"

"That will work," Emmett agrees. "There's a Papa Jonas near Mid-Wilshire. Meet you there?"

"That would be great," Lucy agrees, her gut still tight. She'll have to get past the fear sometime. She can't encourage other women to rejoin the real world if she's not willing to take the first step herself.

"You OK, Boot?" Tim asks as Emmett drives off.

"Fine," Lucy insists. "I just need to take a minute to call Rachel."

"A minute," Tim agrees, "but we've got to get back out there."

"Don't I know it," Lucy mutters and pulls out her cell.

* * *

Nolan frowns at his phone. "I'm sorry, Grace, that sucks. What are you going to do?"

John can hear Grace's defeated sigh. "I don't know. I don't want to uproot Oliver just when he's getting comfortable here. And even if I did want to move, I'm under contract at the hospital, and I've got a lease on my apartment that I can't afford to pay off. So I'd be stuck."

"And Simon refuses to look for another job in L.A.," John reiterates.

"He says he'll lose too much by leaving the company," Grace confirms. "So, unless he changes his mind, I guess I'll have to work out the best schedule with Simon that I can."

Nolan grips his cell in frustration. "I wish there were some way I could help."

"You're listening, John. That is helping. But there is something else you can do. When I took Oliver to Disneyland, I skipped some of the rides he wanted. I mean he's not tall enough to go on the big coasters, anyway, thank God! But we bypassed some of the rides he could have gone on because I couldn't handle them."

"That's right; you get motion sick," John recalls. "I remember that from when we went to that little carnival. After we rode on the Scrambler, you had to skip the cotton candy and the funnel cakes. Can't you wear one of those patches they have now?"

"I'm allergic. But you never had problems with any kind of motion. Not with me, anyway."

John can feel the heat rising in his face and hopes Harper doesn't finish her call with Lila in time to see it. "Uh, no. No problems with motion. So you want me to be your surrogate when you have to take a pass on nausea-inducing attractions?"

"Could you, John? I want to get in as much fun with Oliver as I can while I can."

"I would be happy to, Grace. We can do Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, or anything else you want, none of which would come close to the sheer terror of a car chase with Harper. Oh, she's done with her call. Gotta go. Call you later."

"You got your head on straight after talking to your girlfriend, Boot?" Nyla asks as they return to their shop.

"I'm fine. But she's having ex problems, big ones, and she's worried about her kid."

Nyla clicks her seat belt. "Who isn't?"

"Problem with Lila?"

"The problem's with Donovan letting her take the art class she wants."

"But that's great, isn't it?" Nolan wonders. "She was drawing all the time she was at the station. She seems to love it."

"She does. And the class would be great, but she'll be working on assignments during the time she's with me because Donovan won't have enough time to help her. Nolan, I don't know a damn thing about art. My training officer used to make fun of me when I tried to diagram an accident scene." Harper taps her phone. "It's a good thing we can just take photos of everything now."

"After 20 years of drawing up plans and sketching out what my customers wanted, I'm not too bad with a pencil. From what I saw when Lila showed me some of her work at the station, she's talented, a lot more than I am. But I might be able to show her a trick or two," Nolan offers.

"You're being a white knight again, but I appreciate it, Nolan. I'll let you know the next time I have some time with her."

"I don't suppose art ability would be worth a couple of points on my evaluation?" John queries.

"Don't push it, Boot. If you want to show me how good you are at putting things down on paper, get your reports in faster."

Nolan straightens in his seat. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll work on that."

* * *

John smiles as Grace wanders into the station, just as he's ready to leave. "This is a wonderful surprise. Did you figure out a schedule for our trip to Disneyland?"

Grace points to a nearby bench. "Can we sit?"

"Of course, Grace. What's going on?"

She reaches out to caress a bruise the last arrest of the day managed to inflict on his cheek. "John, we need to talk."


	31. Chapter 31

Restoration

Chapter 31

Breath forces itself from John's lungs. "Those words rarely mean anything good."

"It might be good, John, for Oliver, at least, but not for you and me."

"What happened, Grace?"

"This afternoon, Simon got a job offer in L.A., but it's for a lot less money than he'd make in San Jose. He's willing to stay, but it would mean pooling our resources."

"Pooling your resources, how?" John asks.

"One rent. One food bill. He'd have to move in with me, John. He wants to do that. He wants to try again, for Oliver's sake."

"For Oliver's sake," John repeats. "Are you sure that's what would be good for Oliver? Not long ago Henry told me that he didn't like that Sarah and I stayed together because of him. Don't you think that Oliver will pick up on the tension and the resentment if Mommy and Daddy are together again? Kids can be pretty perceptive, Grace. I found that out the hard way."

"John, Simon and I had some good years. I never had the kind of magic with him that I did with you, but you and I don't even know if we can be that way again. Right now, I believe that the best thing I can do is put all my efforts into making things work with him. And I'm sorry, John, but that means we can't be anything but friends."

John shakes his head. "I'm not sure we can even be that, Grace. Maybe until I can get my head around you being married, we'd better keep it professional. I take the criminals down, and you patch up the victims."

Grace reaches for John's hand, but he pulls away. "If that's what you want, John."

"Of course it's not what I want, Grace," John returns. "I want to be with the woman I believed you were, a single woman. I want to take Oliver on the rides at Disneyland. I want the partner who can't keep her lips off me. But that's not possible, so I need some distance. I'll probably see you at the hospital. Right now, you should go."

Grace slowly pushes up from the bench. "Bye, John."

"Bye, Grace," John whispers as the door closes behind her.

* * *

Emmet nervously fiddles with the pepper flakes shaker on his table at Papa Jonas. He has no reason to worry. Lucy's not late; he's early. But he could see the hesitation in her eyes.

It's not as if he doesn't know why. Every cop in the city knows what happened to her, and news travels from cops to firefighters pretty fast. But Emmet is used to handling the wounded. He's been pretty damn wounded himself. He knows how it feels and how recovery goes — or doesn't.

One minute you think you're OK and then the roof falls in. You're back where you were, and the trauma flows back full force. He's been there, and if her demons come at Lucy again, he can handle it. He just has to convince the stubborn rookie of that.

He looks up as the bell over the door tinkles. It's a throwback, but so is Papa Jonas. The tables are covered in checkered tablecloths, and the flatware is metal, not plastic. They even serve the drinks in real glasses. There's no booze, but both he and Lucy have early calls. They can do without alcohol in their systems. Spotting her in the entryway, he waves Lucy to their table. "I'm starved. Flynn's been cooking for the station, and the captain's considering ordering him to binge the Food Network or get a subscription to Martha Stewart. The man needs help, and so do we when we eat his food. I need something that won't have me reaching for heartburn pills. What kind of pizza do you like?"

Lucy stares down at the table. "You're probably going to hate this: veggies. I like mushrooms, peppers, onions. And I like pineapple too. None of the guys at the station will go near that. Bradford says it should be banned."

"I'm not crazy about pineapple either," Emmett confesses, "but I love peppers and mushrooms, especially banana peppers."

"I love those too!" Lucy exclaims.

Emmett turns both thumbs up and signals for a server. "We have a winner!"

* * *

"You up for dessert?" Emmet asks as Lucy polishes off her fourth slice. "The spumoni here is terrific."

"I know," Lucy agrees, "and…"

As the lights in the restaurant go out, Lucy barely manages to smother a scream. A tiny candle flame appears at the kitchen door, followed by a line of servers who stop at a nearby table. They begin singing "Happy Birthday," as the lights come back on, revealing a cake."

As the restaurant applauds, Lucy grips the edge of the table. "You all right?" Emmett asks. "We can get out of here if you want."

Lucy straightens resolutely in her chair. "I'm OK, and no way am I missing spumoni."

"Good," Emmett responds, "because I was really looking forward to it."

* * *

Ten minutes after she and John start their patrol," Harper pulls to the curb. "Do you see something?" Nolan asks.

"Yeah, I see something," Nyla retorts, "a sad-ass boot who's too busy feeling sorry for himself to concentrate on his job. That's something that could get both of us killed."

"I'm. sorry, Harper," Nolan apologizes. "I'll keep my head in the game. I was just thinking that my situation with Grace has a weird symmetry to it. I broke up with her 20 years ago to go back to Sarah because she was pregnant with Henry. Now, Grace is breaking up with me for the good of her son."

Nyla skewers John with her eyes. "Are you sure about that? You never lied to Grace, did you? I mean, she knew you'd been with Sarah."

"Probably half the school knew," John admits. "We weren't subtle."

"You're not subtle about much of anything, Nolan. If there is anyone who knows about lying, it's me, and I'm saying Grace lied to you. She told you her marriage was over when it wasn't. And she told you she's doing this for Oliver, but it doesn't sound like it. Maybe she lied to herself, or maybe she just wanted someone she knew would be good in bed. Whatever her reason, she never really let go of her marriage, or she wouldn't be taking Simon up on his offer. Maybe it's best that you found out before you got any deeper into the relationship. You're kind of a chump, you know. You let Jessica Russo pull a number on you too. So maybe just cool it with the crazy ladies for a while and concentrate on what you need to do on the streets. You should put everything you have into being a cop now, Nolan. You're almost over the finish line of your rookie year, but you need something extra for the kick."

"Does that mean that I should save the energy I was going to use on helping Lila with her art?" John asks, a lopsided smile just quirking his lips.

Nyla's gaze softens. "Not unless you want the T.O. who's filling out your evaluations to write you up as a loser." Harper pulls the shop back onto the street. "Just keep your eyes on the prize, Boot."

Nolan scans the road ahead. "Yes, Ma'am, and when will you need this chump to help Lila?"

"Don't be a smart-ass, Nolan. When I know the time, I'll let you know."


	32. Chapter 32

Restoration

Chapter 32

That guy is holding a tire iron and not changing a tire," John notes, pointing through the windshield.

"I see him," Nyla acknowledges. "There's a jewelry store with a display in the window in the strip mall across the street."

"Smash and grab?" John wonders.

Nyla slows the shop to a crawl. "He's heading that way. Let's find out. Get ready to hit the flashers and siren, but hold back. We have to catch him in the act."

"Understood."

As the cops observe, a white-haired woman waves at the young man and smiles from a car with a clearly flat tire. He smiles back and goes to help her. "False alarm," John notes. "maybe it's a good omen."

"Boot," Nyla cautions, pulling back onto the street, "don't ever say that. In police work, there's no such thing."

Nell's urgency pours through the radio. "All units. Shots fired, parking lot 6601 Wilshire Blvd. Officer down."

Nolan grabs the radio as Harper floors the gas. "Seven Adam 15 responding."

"Damn omens!" Nyla expels through gritted teeth. "That area is trouble, big time."

"Why?" Nolan asks.

"Armenian mob," Nyla explains tersely. "No time for details now." Sirens from other approaching units rise in pitch as Nyla screeches to a stop just out of range of the gunfire. "Nolan, rifles."

John retrieves the weapons from the hatch as Nyla spots the shooters and two officers, one with a rapidly spreading bloodstain, using a shop as cover. He hands Nyla her specialized gun. "Can you hit them at this range?"

"I can get one, but maybe not the other. We need to shoot together, Nolan — and not miss. Are you up for this?" Nyla demands.

"I'd better be," John replies, sighting his target.

"On three," Nyla instructs. "One, two…" Simultaneous cracks echo off the asphalt as the shooters fall. Other units scream in followed by a paramedic truck.

John watches the paramedics pull away with the fallen officer, and the two shooters, as Grey as supervisor, talks to the unscathed partner. "Can you tell me about the Armenian mob now?" Nolan asks his T.O.

"Might as well," Nyla decides. "We're going to have to stick around to give Grey every detail of taking the shooters down. After I made detective, but before I went undercover, I was investigating the Armenians. I checked out protection, drugs, and a burglary ring. This neighborhood was the epicenter. They were trying to expand, but they had competition."

John can feel every muscle in his body tighten as the memory of Captain Andersen dying in his arms crashes through his brain. "I had experience with the competition."

"I heard," Nyla responds gently. "You put Cole Midas away. Since then, from what I've picked up, the Armenians have been attempting to expand operations again. And they've been getting bolder. You stomp on one roach, and there are plenty more ready to come out of the woodwork."

"If those assholes are shooting cops, can't we rain fire on them like we did on Midas' organization?" Nolan questions.

"That's above my pay grade, Boot. But," Nyla advises, "when you talk to Grey, you can ask him."

* * *

It took some trading, but Grace managed to get off work early enough to pick up Oliver at school. Now she has to explain what's going to be happening. "I need to talk to you, Oliver," she begins as she spreads peanut butter on bread and adds bananas, "about your daddy and me."

"Are you changing the schedule again? I just got used to it," the boy whines.

Grace shakes her head. "We won't need a schedule anymore. Your daddy's moving in with us. We're all going to live together again."

Oliver pushes his sandwich away. "Does that mean you're going to be fighting again? I don't like it when you fight. It makes my tummy hurt."

"We don't like fighting either, and we're going to try not to do it. But won't it be nice to be together as a family?" Grace asks.

Oliver stares at the floor. "I guess. Can I go to my room now? I need to do my homework."

"Don't you want your sandwich? I thought you like peananas."

"I'm not hungry," Oliver declares. "I want to get my spelling done. Miss Johnson said we might have a quiz tomorrow."

"Sure, go ahead," Grace allows, pressing a hand to her abdomen. Oliver's tummy isn't the only one feeling the stress. Her guts are pretty raw. She's going to have to find a way to live with a man she doesn't love.

* * *

"You want to know about the Armenians?" Grey asks. "It's a hell of a time for a history lesson Nolan. The activities of their organization in this city have been going on for more than a decade."

"Who is their version of the Midases?" Nolan questions.

"That would be the Derians," Grey responds, "but Armstrong knows more about the family than I do. He's been investigating their operations for years and managed to bust up some of them. He's your mentor. You should ask him."

"Why isn't he here?" Nolan wonders.

"He's looking into this shooting from an inside angle. But he should be at the station later. You can catch him then. Buy him a beer, Nolan," Grey suggests. "He can use one."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Armstrong takes a swig from his bottle as he shares a table with Nolan at a Wilshire bar. "The Derians. They're a plague on this city, like a rot eating away at people's lives. Ruben Derian is in charge now. His brother Serj is his lieutenant, but his old man started the whole ugly business. He brought in money from overseas and went after businesses that were in trouble. He lent them money he knew they couldn't pay back at interest rates they couldn't afford. When the recession hit, the Derians ended up owning or controlling more than half the neighborhood where the shooting was today. They turned karaoke bars into brothels and drugstores into dealerships.

"The Derian organization fought it out with Cole Midas' soldiers more than once, catching citizens in the crossfire. With Cole and his father in jail, the Derians are looking at the city as theirs to take. We have to keep our boots on their necks. I've been gathering information from shop owners they've tried to pressure, but it's hard. People are more afraid of the Derians than they are of cops. They clam up until it's too late."

"So, what can I do on the street?" Nolan asks.

"Keep your eyes open," Armstrong instructs. "Build trust with the neighborhood merchants. Try to get them to talk to you. Watch for Serj's thugs going into stores. They drive upscale cars and carry attaché cases like a badge. Not too many people take an attaché case into a pizzeria or a dry cleaner. Look for signs business owners are being leaned on."

"Like what?" Nolan presses.

"Stores not fixing things, open longer hours, laying off employees or taking on people they don't need. You see something that looks like the Derians moving in; you tell me," Armstrong instructs. "I'll check it out."

"I can do that," Nolan declares.

A smile pushes its way onto Armstrong's lips. "Good. So listen, Nolan. I get the feeling that this shooting is just the start of a push by the Derian's. Even if I'm on another case, I want you to stay in touch."

"Of course," John agrees. "Anything else I can do?"

"You can try to get the server over here with our nachos."

John grins, signaling across the room to the absent waiter. "I can do that."


	33. Chapter 33

Restoration

Chapter 32

After a long shift and downing beer with Armstrong, John is barely able to keep his eyes open. He's turning off the lights in the house when he notices a peculiar shadow on a wall as if the paint wasn't quite smooth. Damn! He usually does a better job than that. After grabbing a flashlight from the kitchen, he examines the flaw. It looks as if a piece of drywall has been replaced, which makes no sense at all. He put in a full-sized sheet only weeks before.

John taps softly on the wall. The area under the repair returns a dull, less hollow sound. Something is in there, and John is sure he wasn't the one that stowed it. There's more than one criminal with a grudge against him, including the Midas family. If someone planted something, he'll need witnesses before he opens the wall again. It could be a black mark against him if he calls Harper, but he can try Lucy and Jackson. They've all always had each other's backs.

* * *

"Take pictures of everything before we look in that wall," Lucy instructs.

"We'll all take pictures so Nolan can't be accused of faking them if something's in there. And write down why you think there's something in that wall, Nolan. Lucy and I can witness it," Jackson adds. "If my father gets involved, he'll dig into everything."

"All right," John agrees. "So, you believe me about something being wrong?"

"After watching you put this wreck together from nothing, we'd better believe it," Lucy replies. "Start writing, John."

* * *

Nolan stands with his sledgehammer poised. "Are you getting this on video?"

"Both of us are," Jackson assures him.

It takes only one swing of John's construction-hardened muscles to break through the wall. "Holy sh*t!" Lucy exclaims. "Cash, lots of it, and it looks like drugs."

"You need to call Grey right now, Nolan," Jackson urges.

John groans. "He said he was going to have a date night with his wife."

"So he'll be pissed off at you," Lucy interjects. "He's been pissed off at you most of the time since you came to the division. He'll be worse than pissed off if you don't call him."

"You're right," Nolan agrees. "It's going to be a hell of a long night."

* * *

Grey frowns at Nolan across the metal table in an interrogation room while a camera records their conversation. "Let's go over this again. How did you notice the flaw in your wall?"

"There was a shadow that shouldn't have been there. I put in drywall throughout the house, and I have 20 years of experience as a contractor. I knew that shadow was suspect. It was the result of a patch, and not a particularly well done one. So I checked to see if the wall sounded hollow. It didn't. That's when I called Officer Chen and Officer West."

"You called two other rookies, your friends. Why didn't you contact a supervisor?"

"Because I didn't want to disturb anyone up the chain if I was wrong, Sir. I called you as soon as I had anything substantial to report."

"Did you recognize the money in your wall, Officer Nolan?"

"No, Sir."

"Did you recognize the drugs, Officer Nolan?"

"No, Sir."

"Did you touch them at any time?"

"No, Sir."

"Did you witness Officer Chen or Officer West touch either the money or the drugs?"

"No, Sir."

"And where were you before you noticed the flaw in your wall?"

"At Hanrahan's, buying a beer for Detective Armstrong, as you suggested, Sir."

"All right, for now, Officer Nolan. Don't communicate with Chen or West until IA gets statements from all of you. Your home is a potential crime scene. Do you have anywhere to stay until the lab releases it?"

"Harper said I could crash on her couch."

"Fine. Get some rest and report in to meet with IA at the start of shift in the morning."

* * *

Harper tosses a pillow and blanket on her sofa. "You really stepped in it this time, didn't you, Boot?"

"The thing is, there is a group of people who might want to get back at me and who could potentially hide that stuff in my house," Nolan confides. "But I have nothing specific to accuse or eliminate any of them."

"It's no secret that you were restoring the place," Nyla points out. "Lila was looking for something to bring to school for current events. She found a little story about you and your project for rehabbing houses for the homeless. It mentioned how you'd brought your place back from the dead."

"Abbot must have given that to the press," John speculates. "I never spoke to any reporters. As a cop, the last thing I need is to advertise where I live."

"You've got that right," Nyla agrees. "Any of the assholes we bust could come after you. But most of them wouldn't have access to that kind of money or drugs. Someone has a serious hate-on for you, Nolan. Someone big."

John spreads out his blanket and punches his pillow. "Maybe the lab will find something. I'll be out of here early. I want to catch a shower at the division before the day shift comes in, and I have extra clothes in my locker. I can't pick up anything at home. And I can't put on the uniform again until this is cleared up."

"That better be soon, Boot. I have a lot left to teach you this last month, and it's going to be hard enough to finish your training as is. Get some sleep. You're going to need it."

* * *

Commander West frowns at the contents of the file in front of him. "Officer Nolan, I was hoping I'd never have to see you again in a professional capacity."

"Yes, Sir. I would have preferred it that way as well," Nolan acknowledges. "I put everything that happened in my statement. What else do you need to know?"

"You know the drill, Nolan," West asserts. "I need to hear everything from you in your own words. And then we'll address any inconsistencies."

"Yes, Sir. I was coming back from having a beer with Detective Armstrong at Hanrahan's."

West nods. "He's already confirmed that you were with him until 9 o'clock. Exactly what did you see when you returned to your home?"

"A shadow, an indication of unevenness on the wall. I spent a lot of time on my walls, Sir. I believed that shadow didn't belong there."

"And from that, you concluded someone had hidden something in the wall? That's quite a leap, Officer Nolan."

"I don't believe so, Sir, I've located a number of stashes on the job, and my T.O., Detective Harper, has been very instructive as well, concerning drug concealment. She has a great deal of expertise in that area," Nolan asserts.

"If you were that sure, Officer Nolan, why didn't you call your watch commander or a supervisor, instead of your friends?"

Nolan swallows, hard. "I wasn't entirely sure, Sir, and it would have been bad enough to embarrass myself in front of Officer Chen and Officer West."

"But by calling them, you involved them as well," Commander West points out.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. I should have made a better choice. Are they in trouble?"

"Not if you're telling the truth. Have you any idea how much money was there?" the commander queries.

"I didn't touch it, Sir, so I don't know the denominations. If the money was in hundreds, $50,000 would be approximately 4 inches high, more if the money had been circulated. There were two stacks, about a foot high each. That would be about $300,000," Nolan figures.

West drums his fingers on the table. "Harper taught you well. And the drugs?"

"Again, I didn't touch them, but the substance in the bags was a dark color and had an appearance consistent with black tar heroin, uncut," Nolan reports. "I estimate there was at least a kilo."

"That is what the lab confirmed. And where would someone obtain a kilo of black tar heroin, Officer Nolan?" West presses.

"It's unlikely uncut heroin would be available on the street, Sir. It would have to come from someone capable of bringing it in from Mexico, a major organization."

West closes his folder. "So, if we assume that you are telling the truth, Officer Nolan, then someone working for a heavy hitter, chose to sacrifice hundreds of thousands in cash and drugs to frame a rookie cop. Does that sound likely to you?"

Nolan slumps in his chair. "No, Sir, it doesn't."


	34. Chapter 34

Restoration

Chapter 34

John draws himself up, squaring his shoulders. "Commander West, likely or not, I'm telling you the truth, and I have nothing to hide. If I did, I wouldn't have called two witnesses to watch me tear up a house I just spent six months restoring. Someone put the money and the drugs in that wall. I have no idea who it was, except that it wasn't me."

West crosses his arms, staring at John. "Officer Nolan, I'm inclined to believe you if for no other reason than your record is too good for me to think you'd do something that stupid. However, what I believe is irrelevant. What matters is the evidence. The analysis is still underway, but the lab and the detective in charge have released your house, so go home. Get some rest. Sergeant Grey will contact you when the investigation is complete or if we have further questions for you."

"Sir," Nolan queries, "is Detective Armstrong assigned to the case?"

"The detective who may serve as your alibi? You know better than that, Officer Nolan. Detective Calderon has the assignment."

Nolan grimaces. "Sir, Detective Calderon could have gotten my T.O. killed."

West drums his fingers on the table. "Was Calderon going by the book, Officer Nolan?"

"Yes, Sir, she was."

"And that's what she'll be doing this time. If you're innocent, you'll be cleared."

* * *

With his forearm shielding his eyes from the daylight, Nolan's mind skates on the edge between wakefulness and nightmarish imaginings. He's almost captured by restless slumber when his cell jerks him to full awareness. The I.D. reads Councilman Abbot. At least the politician will be a distraction. John thumbs "accept."

"Officer Nolan, glad I got you. The permits have come through to start work on your first house, and we have a candidate to occupy it, a Joshua Gomez. He's been picking up day jobs installing drywall, but he can meet with you at my office any time after seven tonight if you're available."

John winces at the word, "drywall." "I can be there at seven."

"Excellent," Abbot responds. "I'll set it up and make the introductions. After that, you and Gomez can work out a schedule together."

As the call ends, Nolan dismisses any chance of going to sleep. Padding barefoot into his living room, he stares at the gaping hole, now bare of any incriminating contents. He might as well fix it. He has nothing better to do.

* * *

Nyla blocks Rita Calderon's exit from the break room. "I need to see the lab report on the drugs found in Nolan's house."

"Golden ticket or not, you can't have anything to do with the investigation of your own boot," Calderon contends. "You know that."

"I'm not asking in on the investigation, but I do know more about drugs than any cop here. Even you have to admit that, Calderone."

"So what is it you think you'll find, Harper?" Rita demands.

"I won't know until I look. But if I see something out of place, are you willing to listen?"

"Sure. I don't want to see any cop go down the tubes. And it might not have been according to procedure, but Nolan stepped in to save your ass. That took guts. With any luck, you might turn him into a decent cop. I just got the report. I was getting some coffee before going over it. Come into my office. Have a look and tell me what you see, but that's as far as I can let you go with this."

Harper's short fingernails dig into her palm. "Fine. Just show me the damn analysis."

Leaning over Calderone's desk, Nyla studies the chemical fingerprint of the concealed heroin. "There's no way Nolan could have hidden the drugs."

"Why not?" Calderone presses.

"I recognize this breakdown. See those contaminants? They gave the heroin a crappy texture, even for black tar. The local dealers had too hard a time cutting it, and the big boys weren't making enough profit. They complained up the supply chain, and the cartel came down on the supplier — hard. Heroin from this batch was only available while Nolan was still at the academy. No way he could have gotten his hands on it."

Calderone shakes her head. "That's thin, Harper."

"Thin my ass," Nyla retorts. "The DEA traces drug operations on less evidence than that. The drugs didn't belong to Nolan, so do your damn job, Calderone. Find out who put them in his house."

* * *

Patching his wall went too fast, and John is going to have to wait to paint it. A tentative knock at the door interrupts his futile quest to find something else to distract him from the investigation. Peering out at Jessica shuffling her feet against the concrete, his body overrules his mind, and he opens the door.

The DHS agent looks even more petite than John remembers. She's always acted tall, or at least authoritative, but now that attitude seems to have fled. "Hello, John. Can I come in?" Shrugging, he gestures her inside. "News travels fast. I heard about the plant in your wall."

"Then you don't believe the money and drugs were mine?" John queries.

Jessica's ponytail whips as she shakes her head. "I saw how hard you worked putting this place together. No one does that if they have a fortune in cash and drugs sitting around. Besides, I know you, John. You're a do-gooder, even when it tears your heart out."

"Harper calls me a guardian."

"She's right. I don't think anyone who knows you believes you're dirty. But I also know you can't talk to your friends on the force right now. So I thought you might need some company."

"No problem with that from a significant other slash baby daddy?" John questions.

"There isn't going to be a baby, John. I got checked out. The reason I was late is because my biological clock ran down early. The doctor said it wasn't abnormal. I mean, I'm not sick, just in the tail of the curve. I might be able to have a kid by in-vitro, but I don't have the time, the money or the patience for that, and there are no guarantees of success."

"You could adopt. Single people do now. Lucy has a friend who knows all about that kind of thing. You could talk to her."

Jessica paces away. "You know me as well as I know you. You know my job, how I put myself on the line every day. Even if some agency were willing to approve me for an adoption, I couldn't take a child I might not be around to care for — not without someone else to share the load. And except for you, I've never known a man I'd trust to take on that kind of responsibility."

John turns her to face him. "Jessica, I told you I can't take on any more, not this soon in a new career. And the way things are going, I might not have any career at all."

"I know, John, " she admits, wrapping her arms around him. "But I understand what it's like to feel alone. I heard your lady doctor isn't here for you, and I thought that someone should be. So, you wouldn't happen to have a bottle of wine, would you?"

"I would, but I have to drive to an important appointment in a few hours, so I can't drink it. I've got frozen pizza we can put in the oven."

"Sold," Jessica declares.


	35. Chapter 35

Restoration

Chapter 35

"What's your appointment?" Jessica asks, popping a piece of oven-crisped pepperoni into her mouth.

"I'm meeting the man I'll be fixing up the first house for as part of the rehab project I started with the city. It's ironic, isn't it? I put myself in a hole, tearing my own home apart. Now I'll be helping someone fix theirs before I know if I can patch up my life."

"Nolan, you couldn't quit being a white knight if you tried. Everyone in your division knows that. Every cop there will be pulling for you."

"Even Sergeant Grey?"

"Especially Sergeant Grey. You earned his respect, John. That's not easy to do."

"Did he tell you that, Jess?"

"No, but Luna, his wife did, last time I was at their place for dinner. Apparently, you did the nearly impossible by changing Wade's mind. Compared to that, living through finding a stash in your wall should be easy."

John draws in an uneven breath. "I sure as hell hope so."

* * *

"Can you hold for a moment, Detective Calderone?" the voice on the other end of the phone chirps.

"I've been put on hold four times," Rita retorts. "Why is it so hard to get someone to validate the origin of a load of black tar heroin?"

"Our specialist in that area is out today, but I can give you the lab," Chirpie suggests.

"You've given me the lab twice, and I reached technicians working on other projects. Give me Agent Michael Banks," Calderone demands.

"He's on assignment," Chirpie claims.

"Then conference me in or give me his number. Tell him I need confirmation of something Detective Harper said."

"Then I will have to put you on hold again," Chirpie warns.

"Fine," Calderone gives in. "Just get him for me."

Rita winces at the dregs of what's left of her coffee when Banks comes on the line. "Detective Calderone? Central said you referred to Nyla Harper."

"Yes!" Rita replies, gasping her relief. "She is sure that tar heroin with a specific composition came into this country during a very limited time. It's vital that I confirm that and find out everything I can about the source of the drugs and who sold them. The career of one of our officers is at stake."

"Let me guess, Nyla's boot," Banks responds. "I can't believe she's playing mother hen to a guy who's older than she is. I can't believe she's playing mother hen period."

"Detective Harper's doing her job," Calderone declares, "and I'm trying to do mine. Give me your cell number, and I'll text you the chemical fingerprint. If Harper's right, I'll need to know a lot more."

"I'll look into it," Banks agrees, "but I can almost guarantee that she'll be right. I've never seen someone with that much talent for this job step away from it before. Send the report to 555-234-4000."

"I'll do that," Calderone confirms.

* * *

"I'll leave you two men to talk," Councilman Abbot announces, rising from his chair at a conference table. Nolan and Gomez eye each other.

"Mr. Nolan," Joshua begins.

"John, please."

"John. When I was 14, I helped my father build my family's home. He didn't just measure twice; he measured three times. He worked for a construction company, and he worked hard. But he spent every spare minute he had on that house. Every angle, every nail was perfect. He wanted to pass it on to me so that my children and their children could live in it forever.

"But it didn't work out that way. Six months after the house was finished, my father passed away. He'd been pushing so hard all his life that his heart just gave out. My mother tried to hold things together. She got a second job. I picked up what I could too. But it wasn't enough. We couldn't keep up with the payments on the loan my father had taken out to buy the land and the building materials. We couldn't pay the taxes either. We lost the house my father gave everything to build. After that, my mother was never right. I did my best to take care of her, but she kept fading away. One of the nurses who was with her in the hospital when she died, called it broken heart syndrome. My heart was broken too. I was willing to do anything to dull the pain."

"Drugs?" John asks.

Joshua nods. "And alcohol, but that just made things worse. One day, I woke up looking at a paramedic who had just given me a shot of Narcan to bring me back from the dead. And I had a flash of something. I don't know what. I realized that by killing myself that way, I was betraying everything my father had tried to do, tried to build. If I gave up, his death, my mother's death, were for nothing. So I started taking construction work. It was the one thing I knew in my bones how to do. And when I saw a flyer for your program, I applied. I want to live out my father's dream."

John draws a deep breath. "Dreams don't always go the way you expect them to. I'll do the best I can to help you rebuild the house. As for the rest of it, I guess we'll both find out. What times will you be free to work?"

"I never know in advance," Joshua admits. "If a gig comes up, I have to take it."

"My schedule isn't predictable, either," John confesses. "But right now, I have more time on my hands than I'd like. I'll give you my private number. You call me whenever you know you'll have a few hours open, and we'll get as much done as we can."

* * *

Almost smiling as he returns home from his meeting with Joshua Gomez, John notices light shining from one of the nearby abandoned homes. Probably squatters. At that moment, he has no standing to roust trespassers, and even if he were on duty, he's not sure he'd try.

Rain is predicted for later that night. Precipitation is not the commonest thing in L.A., and whoever is in the dilapidated house might as well stay dry, assuming that the roof doesn't leak. His did when he bought his home out of foreclosure, along with all the other problems it had. The roof was the first thing he had to fix. He repaired so much, and with every stud, every sheet of drywall, every square of tile, he felt more like himself.

John's home is a reflection of his life. He started at the academy, having to learn everything from scratch and has worked his butt off as a rookie to become a decent cop. He began from almost ground zero with his house too, designing it to fill the hole left by the home Sarah had pushed him into selling. He'd finally managed to put together a place where he was comfortable again when he found that both he and his new refuge had been despoiled, violated. Neither the man nor his retreat would ever feel the same.

He unlocks his door and enters his security code, for all the good it's done so far. Wait! He never had a call about an alarm, and he put the system in before he'd originally installed his wall. Someone knew the code or knew how to bypass needing it. Unfortunately, outside of his friends and family, he has no idea who that person could be.


	36. Chapter 36

Restoration

Chapter 36

Grey looks up from a stack of files as Rita strides through the open door of his office. "Something on your mind, Calderone?"

"Nolan didn't put those drugs in his wall."

The massive sergeant pushes back from his desk. "I think most if not all of the cops in the division believe that, Detective. What kind of proof did you come up with?"

"I had Agent Banks at the D.E.A. check out the lab's analysis of the heroin."

Grey's eyebrow's quirk. "Banks, Harper's old handler?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will assume that your call to Banks was just thorough police work. Why does the analysis prove that heroin was planted?"

"Because Nolan wouldn't have been able to get his hands on that batch."

"Who would have?" Grey asks.

"Anyone dealing with drugs during the time that consignment was on the street. That doesn't include Nolan. He was still a cadet."

"That's a hell of a long list of suspects, Calderone."

"Yes, sir," Calderone agrees. "But we can narrow it down more with the money. The average life span of a hundred dollar bill is 15 years, but the ones in John's wall were brand-new. They weren't accumulated over time. Someone got them out of a bank. That wouldn't fit a cop picking up a stream of bribes or ripping off drug money. Nolan's framer invested a lot to set him up."

"Have you passed that information on to I.A.?" Grey queries.

"Not yet, Sir."

"All right. Give me your report, and I'll get with Commander West. Maybe I can convince him to call off his dogs. But find out who planted that stash, Calderone. ASAP!"

"Yes, Sir. I'm on it."

* * *

John carefully cleans his paintbrush. That's it. He's done. From looking at the wall, he'd never know anything had happened. Too bad proving his innocence isn't that easy. His cell alerts him to a text as he finishes washing his hands. Grey wants to see him — now. That could be either very good or terrible news. Either way, he needs to get himself over to the division. He looks down at his paint-spattered work pants. He'd better take a moment to change first.

Grey beckons John inside his office. "I'll get right to the point, Nolan. We have evidence that you didn't conceal the drugs and money in your wall."

"I'm relieved to hear that, Sir. When can I return to duty?"

"As soon as Commander West closes your case. But we're not much closer to figuring out who the guilty party is. Detective Calderone will need to talk to you."

"I want to thank her, Sir."

"While you're at it, thank your T.O.," Grey advises. "I have a feeling she had a lot to do with aiming Calderone in the right direction."

I will do that, Sir, but something is bothering me about this whole thing."

"Besides almost losing your job and ending up in prison?" Grey queries.

"Besides that, Sir. Whoever hid the drugs and the money had to know how to get into my house without setting off my alarm. For a home system, it's pretty top of the line, and aside from Henry, Abigail, and Agent Russo, the only people with the code are members of the department. I might have been framed by another cop."

Grey pushes out of his chair. "That's a serious accusation, Nolan."

"No more serious than the one the department made against me," John points out. "We may have a dirty cop in the division."

"I'll pass that on to Commander West, Nolan, and I'd advise you not to discuss it with anyone else," Grey cautions. "There's another possibility. The crime families and gangs have gotten pretty high-tech. Detective Armstrong has been more aware of their day-to-day activities than I have, but I doubt that disabling an alarm would be beyond their capabilities."

Nolan nods. "Better a gang member than a cop,"

"Amen to that," Grey agrees. "I'll notify you when you can get back in uniform."

Nolan backs his way toward the door. "Thank you again, Sir."

"Just try not to find any more contraband in your house."

* * *

Armstrong stares at the caller I.D. on his phone: Nolan. It was inevitable that he'd call, but as far as Armstrong can make out from the division grapevine, the investigation to clear the aging rookie has been moving along faster than he anticipated. Not that any cop who knows Nolan could think he was dirty, to begin with. There's never been a bigger boy scout. But Nick never expected proof of Nolan's innocence to surface this fast. John will be back in uniform as soon as the senior West gets off his ass. Armstrong had expected it would take longer. He thumbs acceptance to the call. "Nolan, you know I can't discuss your case with you."

That's exactly what John expected to hear, but there's no reason he can't find a way around the prohibition. "I know you can't, Armstrong, but I was wondering if we could meet. I need some general background, and Grey implied that you would be the person who could give it to me. Can we get together at Buffet Bonanza for lunch? I can stake out a table, and you can join me whenever you get there."

"I could use some of their ribs," Armstrong agrees. "I'll see you in about a half-hour."

* * *

John picks at his macaroni and cheese. Of everything at the buffet, the orangey elbows hold the most memories as comfort food, but they still aren't very tempting at that moment. He's about to take another look at the restaurant's offerings when he spots Armstrong coming toward his table. The detective smiles, giving a little wave. "You found a spot near the ribs."

"The least I could do," Nolan responds. "The coleslaw doesn't look too bad, either. Someone may have made a fresh batch."

"Sounds good. Be right back." After a few minutes, Armstrong returns bearing a tray and plunks himself down opposite John. "What is the general background you have in mind, Nolan?"

"Organized crime, gangs. Who has the know-how to defeat a top-of-the-line home security system?"

"Like say, just for the sake of argument, a Barrington?" Armstrong inquires.

The corners of John's lips twitch at the mention of his home system. "For the sake of argument, right. A Barrington."

"Unfortunately, the truth is," Armstrong explains, "a lot of people. Both the Derians and the Midases put together home invasion rings. And some of the gangs have gotten creative, too. The Midnights sent some of their boys to work for security companies to learn the ropes. And you're aware that builders know about them too. That's how you learned, isn't it?"

"It is. This is not what I was hoping to hear," John admits.

"Nolan, you've been a cop long enough to know how many crimes go unsolved, especially relatively low priority ones like robberies where no one gets hurt. Insurance pays off, and people go on with their lives, which is what you should do as soon as Commander West and Sergeant Grey say the word," Armstrong advises. "I'll bet you already fixed that wall."

"I did," John confides. "And you're probably right. It's just that I'm never going to be able to look at my place the same way again."

"You know, I felt that way about my house after Rebecca died. Everywhere I looked was different, empty. But I got used to it, and I even started thinking about the good memories I had with her there. You'll get past this," Armstrong asserts. "And between your hours as a cop and working on your rehabs for the homeless project, you aren't going to be there much anyway, are you?"

"You have a point," John concedes. "I guess once I get back to work, I'll be too busy to care."


	37. Chapter 37

Restoration

Chapter 37

Checking his watch for the fourth time, Nolan prowls his home. He can picture Grey standing in front of roll call at Mid-Wilshire. Despite the unease John feels under the sergeant's penetrating gaze, he wishes he were there, but he hasn't received his callback. In desperate need of something constructive to do while he's waiting, he considers working on the landscaping he's been putting off. He's about to head to his garage for his gardening tools when his cell buzzes.

The caller I.D. says, J. Gomez. John gains a smidgen of satisfaction from knowing that even if his rehab partner can't afford a place to live, he can afford a phone. "John Nolan."

The voice coming through the speaker is tentative. "John, it's Joshua. I didn't pick up any gigs this morning, and I was wondering if you'll have any time to work with me on the house."

"Joshua, I'm sorry you couldn't find a job today, but your timing is perfect," John explains. "I have a free day, or at least I do so far. I can meet you at the house. When can you make it there?"

"Would half an hour be all right?" Joshua queries.

"Just fine. See you there," John replies enthusiastically.

* * *

John surveys the inside of Joshua's future home. It's a mess, even more than his house was when he first started on it. Fortunately, termites haven't invaded, or the city would have written it off as a lost cause. But peeling wallpaper reveals ugly paint on damaged walls. The electrical system and the plumbing need serious updates, and the flooring in some of the rooms is beyond hope. At least, when John gets the water turned on, one of the bathrooms works. That is a much-needed comfort. Much of the kitchen is salvageable as well.

"We need to make a list of materials," John decides. "The city issued our project a debit card with the funding from the first part of the grant on it. That will make it easy to audit what we spend. It will already be itemized. I figure if we're careful, we should be able to get what we need at the home center. We can haul at least a few days' worth in my truck. That worked out pretty well when I did my house." John pulls a notebook out of his pocket. "We might as well get started."

* * *

"Did you notice that a lot of the cheapest materials were almost sold out?" John asks as he and Joshua load up his truck. "It's a shame to do a house with low-grade materials. You have to redo everything when the stuff wears out, and it just costs more."

"That's true," Joshua agrees. "But I don't think it's the individual homeowners or the small contractors causing a shortage. There's a development going on in Jefferson Park. From what I've heard, they're buying up a lot of the crap wood and wallboard wholesale in L.A. That doesn't leave much for homeowners. The idea is to sell the homes cheap – cheap for L.A. – to buyers who don't know any better. By the time things start falling apart, there won't be anything the people they take for a ride can do anything about it."

"Who's building it?" John asks. "I know this is L.A., but if a builder back where I come from in Pennsylvania tried that, its reputation would be trashed."

Joshua shrugs. "None of the guys I've worked for. Some of the people I know who've taken gigs with those developers say they're rip-off artists in everything they do. They hire undocumented workers because the poor guys are afraid to complain when they get stiffed –and pay everyone else as little as they can. I've heard they're bribing inspectors to look the other way, too, and they also tried to get a foothold in this neighborhood."

"How?" John questions.

"The men I talked to didn't know any details, except that the developers wanted to demolish a lot of these houses."

"But when Councilman Abbot pushed through my program, that might have stopped them," John muses.

Joshua shrugs again. "I don't know. I just thank God for Councilman Abbot – and for you."

"Hey, you have no idea how much I need to work on this right now," John declares. "I'm grateful to have the chance."

* * *

Even as tired as his muscles are, John feels great as he lets his shower sluice off the dirt and sweat from a good day's work. Together, he and Joshua made a lot of progress, more than he'd expected. Joshua decided to sleep at the house tonight, and until it's finished. The formerly homeless man can bathe without standing in line and even cook a little. And wreck that place still is, it's Joshua's wreck. John knows the feeling. And for Joshua, the work in progress beats a shelter all to hell.

* * *

The next morning, John was hoping he'd be called back to work, but the time for roll-call has come and gone. He won't be going to the division unless Grey or Commander West requests another interview, but he can head out to another government building.

If there is anything that John understands, it's plans and permits. He worked with them for 20 years before having to get them for his rehab and the work he's doing with Joshua. If a developer is preying on vulnerable families in L.A., checking it out is as good a use of his time as any. The records are public. He'll just have to sift through them to check out what Joshua told him. And if it turns out there is a criminal organization involved, he can send the information up the chain.

Recalling Joshua's accounting, John starts with building permits and inspection reports for Jefferson Park. The area is on the cusp of some serious gentrification, a mixed blessing in John's view. The activity is generating a lot of paper. John puts together a list of the builders applying for construction, as well as the officials signing off on them and the inspectors approving the work. He's beginning to see a pattern. Several inspectors are suggesting the fewest changes or signing off with no citations at all, on the work by two corporations, SDB and RDB.

John switches to checking permit applications for his own neighborhood. SDB filed a load of them, all of which were turned down after Abbot got the City Council to green light John's project. He pulls up an app on his phone to make some quick calculations. If SDB had been able to pursue their plans and gentrify his area, it could have realized several hundred thousand from each house. The total could have come to many millions. Whoever is behind SDB would have good reason to be pissed off at him.

Could he have stumbled into the reason someone would invest as much money as they did to frame him? What was in his wall would have been the profit on only one or two homes. And the heroin hadn't looked to be high-grade stuff. If the frame was a result of his project, the cash and the drugs might have been worth the investment to discredit him and stop the work. After championing dirty cop John Nolan, Abbot wouldn't have looked great either. And an employee of a building company could have disabled John's alarm system. It all fits. He has to find out who's behind SDB.


	38. Chapter 38

Restoration Chapter 38

The early morning call from Rita Calderone comes as a disappointment. John was hoping for one from Grey, telling him to get his ass in for roll call. But contact from the detective investigating his case is a step in the right direction – at least he hopes so.

A Google search for S.D.B. turned up almost nothing useful. His hits were mostly splashy ads for L.A. developments, particularly one in Jefferson Park. John's familiar with the glossy photos intended to lure unwary buyers. The model homes are beautifully staged with expensive carpeting and shiny appliances. What the ads don't say is that all the features that pull in potential homeowners are overpriced upgrades. And the pictures are taken when the units haven't been around long enough for the paint to crack and the plumbing to spring leaks. Over the years, he's had to fix up enough houses for disappointed young couples who thought they'd found the deal of a lifetime, especially when the original builder pulled up stakes and left town ahead of lawsuits.

Other than the ads, there are blurbs here and there about sales closing and new developments opening up. He can find locations and hours for showrooms and sales offices but only a post office box for the actual S.D.B. organization. The privately-owned company has no informative filings that John can uncover. Maybe Calderone will have more luck. Detectives have access to databases not accessible to John, especially from a home computer. She wants to see John immediately after roll call, so he'll be hustling out of his house at almost his usual time. If nothing else, going through that part of his routine will feel normal.

* * *

On the way to Calderone's office, John locks eyes with Harper, but all he can do is mouth "thank you." Hopefully, later, he'll still be able to help Lila with her art classes. That opportunity to do something useful is worth a lot, but right now, he needs to find out what Calderone has on her mind.

Spotting Nolan approaching the door of her office, Rita signals him to come in. Her space is smaller than the one allotted to Armstrong, but Nick has more years as a detective than she does, considerably more. When he first started chasing down Rosalind Dyer, Rita was still on the beat. But she's closed her share of cases. Unfortunately, the aging rookie's isn't one of them. She waves him to a chair in front of her desk. "Take a seat, Nolan. I'm going to be straight with you. Everything I've uncovered so far indicates that you weren't the one to put the drugs and money in the wall of your house."

"I sense a 'but,'" John interjects.

"But," Rita continues, "I haven't found much to pin down who did. Commander West is reluctant to release you back to duty until I can come up with someone who has a big enough hate on for you to set up a frame. I've already ruled out the Midases. After the department took down Cole, what's left of his organization doesn't have the resources to waste on something with no profit in it. Now that you've had time to think about it, is there anyone you've pissed off enough to throw away that amount of money and drugs to paint you as a dirty cop?"

John's face lights with a twinge of triumph. "Detective Calderone, by a strange series of circumstances, I may have stumbled onto the path that will lead to exactly who would pick up that brush. Have you any idea who might be behind an outfit known as S.D.B.?"

"S.D.B.," Rita repeats. "I've heard Serj Derian referred to as S.D. and his brother Ruben as R.D. But I don't know about the 'B.'"

Nolan almost jumps out of his seat. "Now that you bring up the Derians, I think that I might. Both S.D.B. and a company called R.D.B. are involved in some sketchy real estate developments. "'B can stand for 'builders' or 'business.' It doesn't matter. What does is that I may have inadvertently blocked Serj Derian's efforts to make a hell of a lot of money. I think he found a way he thought would not only screw me but blacken the reputation of a decent politician and the L.A.P.D. in one stroke."

Rita nods slowly. "You're going to have to lay out the details, Nolan. Step by step."

"Detective Calderone, this is one story I can't wait to share."

* * *

On the way back to his home, John stops by what is now the Gomez house. No one is home. That's probably a sign that Joshua managed to line up some work. John's almost jealous, but he can use the time to do the yard work he's been putting off. He wants to bury a soaker hose in the backyard under the area he plans for vegetable beds. In Pennsylvania, unpredictable frosts were his enemy, often killing off his tomatoes before they were ready to eat. After his father took off when he was a kid, he tried to help his mother by fixing things and growing whatever he could in the tiny little yard behind their rental house. It was never much, and as often as not, he lost the battle with the weather and local wildlife. But he remembered the proud looks in his mother's eyes and his own when she served something he grew. He tried to help Sarah out too, especially when their finances were tight, but she had little patience for peeling and chopping, preferring easily prepared meals. If he did have something to contribute to dinner, he would usually wash and cut it up himself, at most, putting together a salad.

While he was staying in Ben's guest house, he managed to plant an herb garden behind the kitchen. Lucy used it a couple of times when they were together, to make some strange tea. Ben also availed himself of some of the greenery when he was on one of his exotic cookery binges. Ben. If there's anyone who understands business, even if he spends as little time as possible actually engaging in it, it's Ben. He might have an idea about how to uncover the unsavory dealings of S.D.B. John's old roomie took off for Europe not long after John got his own place, and John hasn't seen him in months. But they have exchanged enough texts for John to know that his friend is back in town. Now that he has the wall repaired, he might as well show off his restoration job. John's modest home can't compare to the luxury of Ben's guest or main house, but it's comfortable, and it's his. No matter what Serj Derian or whoever else is responsible for John's current troubles tries to throw at him, the haven he created is still his refuge.

* * *

Calderone studies a file of everything she has on Serj Derian, searching for some connection to S.D.B. The best she can find is his ties to several businesses in Jefferson Park, that fall within the boundaries of the S.D.B. home development zone. Of course, Derian is ripping people off two or three ways at once. He sells them crap for homes, and then gives them raw deals on whatever else they buy. He probably underpays whoever comes to work for him too. She needs someone who can go undercover and dig into what's going on. Angela Lopez is on the fast track to becoming a detective. If Grey will sign off on it, Lopez will be a perfect choice.


	39. Chapter 39

Restoration

Chapter 39

Ben gazes around Nolan's home. "To buy a wreck out of foreclosure and turn it into this while working full time as a cop is amazing. I wish I had your talent, John."

"And I wish I had your money, or at least enough so I wouldn't have to worry about making a living," John responds. "So we're even. I'm not 100% sure I'll be able to work as a cop anymore, either."

"Why?" Ben wonders. "You did great on your exam, and you said the evidence shows the money and drugs you found in your wall weren't yours."

"Because there's yet to be any proof about who they did belong to, and until we nail the guilty party, I'll have a black cloud over my head. Forty-five-year-old rookies with that kind of a mark on their records don't get very far."

"How do you know? So far, you're the only 45-year-old rookie in the L.A.P.D.," Ben teases. "But seriously, Bro, what can I do to help?"

"You were the business major, and you've managed to take your trust fund and triple it at least."

"Quintuple it," Ben corrects, suppressing a triumphant grin. "I got lucky and bought into the Southern California real estate market in the right places at the right times."

"I doubt luck had much to do with it. We were roomies for a long time. I know how you studied and examined every aspect of a challenge, coming up with just the right strategy. I need some of that insight now."

"You want to get into some real estate besides this house?"

"No. I have to know who else is in real estate. I need to prove the ownership of a company called S.D.B. I believe that a major player in a criminal organization is behind it. His name is Serj Derian. But Derian is shielded by layers that I can't begin to penetrate. I need to understand how to peel them back."

"Easier said than done, John. Some firms specialize in that kind of digging. I've hired a couple of them from time to time, but they don't come cheap. I only made the investment when I expected a big payoff. But when it comes down to it, bad actors can phony up books and create shell corporations. Personal interactions are harder to cover up. You find out who someone talks to, has drinks with, but avoids in publicity shots, that's where you find the connections that matter. Find out who Serj Derian is with when he thinks no one is watching, and you'll learn a lot more about him than looking at a carefully constructed balance sheet. Why do you think I went to so many parties? It wasn't just the booze or the women, although I'm not knocking those, it was to observe the conversations in the corners, and eavesdrop on the things whispered at the end of the night. I made some of my best buys based on what I saw and heard after the fourth or fifth drink – someone else's, not mine."

John sighs. "I can't travel in those kinds of circles, Ben."

"I can," Ben declares, "and I was planning on attending an event tomorrow night where some interesting conversations may be taking place. I'll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything you can use."

"I really appreciate it, Ben."

"Hey, you've been there for me when I needed it, and you've told me truths I needed to hear. I'm just returning the favor."

John claps a hand on Ben's shoulder. "You're doing a hell of a lot more than that, Buddy. But right now, I'm not about to try to talk you out of it.

* * *

As Angela enters Grey's office, her eyes flick to Calderone. "What's going on?"

"Close the door," Grey instructs. "You've been wanting to get into more detective work, Lopez. Calderone has a job for you."

"Does this have something to do with the sh*t planted at Nolan's house?" Angela queries.

"It has everything to do with it," Calderone declares. "We have reason to believe that Serj Derian is involved, but we need to get some proof. That's where you come in."

"What about West? He's in his last month of training. He needs someone to get him through the final push," Lopez asserts.

"Nolan is still out, and when he comes back, he'll be behind the front desk for a day or two. West can work with Harper for a bit. She's not about to cut him any slack, and you'll be with him for the final kick," Grey advises.

Lopez turns to Calderone. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

Angela recognizes the expression on Wesley's face. It's how he looks when contending with a difficult client. "Let me get this straight. We are going to the showroom and model home of a crooked developer to act like a couple wanting to buy a house."

"That's part of it," Angela allows. "I'm also going to try to get them to hire me. So I'll pretend that I want us to buy the most expensive home they have and you warn me that unless I get a better job, we can't afford it. I ask if there's an opening."

"Why would there be?" Wesley asks.

"Because several families have already claimed they were defrauded and named a salesperson. The fraud squad will pick her up."

"You don't think the developer will bail her out?" Wesley questions.

"We'll have the 72 hours we can hold her, more than that if she can't get hired back. The development company may decide to throw her to the wolves to protect itself. We think the Derian crime family is behind the scam, but so far, we haven't been able to nail them. Calderone and I can't see them revealing themselves for a minor operative. That's why I want to go in to get evidence against them. They're not only ripping homebuyers off, they're running major drug operations, and we think they're the ones who framed Nolan.

"Baby, if you don't want to go with me, I can get one of the other cops. But I'm not going to look at him the way I do at you. And I don't know if I'd get the body language right either. I haven't had that much practice. And Harper warned me that if you don't get everything perfect in an undercover identity, the target you're trying to dupe will sense something is wrong, even if they don't know why. But I don't have to pretend to be in love with you, because I am."

"How the hell can I say no to that?" Wesley demands. "But who's going to be backing us up if something goes wrong tonight?"

"Calderone. West will be with her. I'll get Bradford and Chen too, and Grey will be monitoring the operation. If anything goes sideways, he'll shut it down."

"All right," Wesley agrees. "I'm in."

* * *

Ben gazes around the Rosewood Ballroom at the Mystique. It's far from the biggest space at the hotel, but for a banquet, it's pretty good sized. And he's noticed the sales forces of the various real estate operations pulling a standard ploy. They pick the tables with the most likely investors and make sure they have one of their people there to guide the conversation. Ben's been the target of way too many marketers to have his investments influenced by free drinks and salesmanship, but he's willing to play along to hear the pitch. If he can help John out, keeping his ears open to what's going on in the room, while some idiot romances his checkbook will be worth it.


	40. Chapter 40

Restoration

Chapter 40

Lester Greenwood downs half of his fourth Scotch, the ruddiness of his cheeks and nose indicating that he would have been better off stopping at two. "I tell you, SDB and RDB are spoiling it for all of us. My people try to make an honest pitch to sell a well-built starter home, and all they hear about is either bargains or rip-offs.

"The damn millennials, the few who aren't over their heads with school loans, are a hard sell. Closings on my development in Jefferson Park are way behind schedule. It's a good thing that I've got Riverside and Imperial Valley, or I'd be looking down the barrel of Chapter 11. Damn crooks!"

Ben takes a sip of club soda adorned with a cherry and swizzle stick to make it look more potent. "I'm not familiar with SDB and RDB. Who are they?"

Lester gulps more Scotch. "More like what are they. I had a detective look into them. She followed one of the SDB flunkies around until he met with his boss. Went right up to the window of a Maserati. When she had a pal at the DMV run the plate, she found out the car belongs to Serj Derian. He and his brother Ruben run a criminal organization in L.A. Ruben's got to be the RDB. What the f*ck are the police doing? An honest guy hasn't got a chance anymore. The cops need to move their asses, yesterday!"

Ben knows at least one cop who's going to make sure they do.

* * *

Angela examines the clothes she pulled from her closet before leaving for work that morning to partner with Calderone. Despite Wesley's assurances, she's not sure she'll look the part of the ambitious homebuyer, but she can't think of anything to wear that would be better. If she gets things right that night, it will be a big step toward getting the detective slot. She's not about to screw it up.

* * *

West is excited to work with Harper. She's probably been responsible for knocking out more crime than most of the other cops in the precinct put together. No wonder she got a golden ticket. His temporary T.O., however, is not showing much enthusiasm for working with him. She gave him a hostile stare before informing him that if he tries to talk half as much as Nolan does, he's going to be rousting jaywalkers. She seemed particularly annoyed when she asked about his art skills, and he admitted he doesn't have any. He has no clue what that was about.

Harper points at a boy standing out in front of a stucco house. "What do you think he's doing?"

"Waiting for the school bus or for some friends to walk to school with," West guesses.

Nyla rolls her eyes. Nolan wouldn't have missed that one, even before she and Bishop trained him. He knows kids. "School? The kid has no backpack and no books. And look at that bulge in his back pocket, the shape of it. What is it?"

"A roll of bills," West realizes.

"Right. The kid's looking to make a drug buy, probably fronting for an adult male who would make the neighbors suspicious standing there. If we play our cards right, we'll grab the dealer and the customer."

"What do we do?" West asks.

Harper points down the street. "See that strip mall? The All-Day Diner has outdoor tables. We pull in there and park the shop around back. You stay in it on the radio. I've got clothes in my kit I can use for my cover. When I spot something happening, we'll move in."

Harper opens the back of the shop and examines the contents of her duffel. Crystal would be over the top for this neighborhood, but Janna, Janna would be just about right for sipping coffee and eating a Danish before work. Nyla won't even have to frizz out her hair. If she puts in an order, the diner won't care if she uses the ladies' room to change. She can become Janna in a couple of minutes. She just hopes that their target doesn't get away in the meantime. A roll of bills that size means a big buy, enough to screw up a lot of kids.

* * *

For a call coming in before 9 a.m. on Nolan's cellphone, the I.D. is surprising. "Ben, I didn't expect you to be up this early."

"That makes two of us," Ben admits, "but some asshole flew over in a helicopter this morning and rattled the place. As long as I was up, I figured I should tell you what I heard last night. A developer named Lester Greenwood has direct evidence of Serj Derian's involvement in real estate rip-offs. Greenwood's pissed as hell that the cops aren't doing anything about it."

"The cops are doing something about it, Ben. I'm not in the loop right now, but I know that much. I'll pass on what you told me. Thanks. It could help a lot."

"Don't worry about it, John. I kind of enjoyed it. I'm beginning to understand why you signed up, not that I'd want to go through all the training sh*t you have to, but it was good to play cop for a couple of hours. Oh – Serj Derian has been tooling around in a Maserati."

"Good to know," John acknowledges. "And as long as you're in the spirit of being useful, you want to come over and help me dig up my yard?"

Ben snorts. "Don't push it, John. I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

Looking for all the world like a personal assistant desperately hoping to move up to her boss's job, Nyla slowly sips coffee and nibbles at a chocolate croissant. She hadn't expected anything that fancy at the diner, but it beats stale Danish all to hell. From where she's sitting, she can see the kid with the roll of cash. She'd see him a lot better with binoculars or a scope, but that would blow her cover. And all she needs is to spot the transaction.

She and West can go after the seller, and she can push him for who's up the chain. Whether she gets anything out of him or not, at least it will be one more dealer off the street. She can get social services to take care of the kid, too. If they can separate him from whoever is using him to make a buy, there might still be hope for him.

And while she's thinking about kids, she needs to get Nolan with Lila. Nyla had no clue how to answer Lila's early morning question about drawing pencils, but she has a feeling that her regular boot will. If Calderone and Grey don't get the senior West to release him back to work soon, she's going to have to figure out whose ass to kick to get things moving.

A black car pulls up to the curb where the kid is standing. It's a no-parking zone. West could go bust him just for that, but any two-bit lawyer could get anything found in the car suppressed. If she sees money change hands, that's probable cause.

The kid ambles over to the driver's side of the car, pulling what Nyla assumes to be money out of his pocket. "West move in!" she orders on the radio concealed under a napkin. She jumps in the vehicle as he swings by. The driver of the black car, intent on his sale, never sees the shop coming. Nyla charges out of the passenger door.


	41. Chapter 41

Restoration

Chapter 41

"I want a lawyer," Nyla's prisoner demands as she cuffs him.

"Of course you do. You'll get your chance after you're processed."

West leans down to talk to the boy who stuck the roll of bills through the window of the dealer's car. "You want to tell me what happened here?"

"Screw you!" the young man declares. "I want a lawyer too."

"Did you call for backup, Boot?" Harper asks, rolling her eyes.

"Bradford and Chen were three minutes out. They should be here any …"

Bradford pulls to the curb. Jumping out of his shop, he surveys the suspect as Lucy looks over the little boy. "I'll call Rachel. She can meet us at the division."

"We'll need to check this house too," Harper points out, "but if we want anything we find to stick, we'll need a warrant. And we'll need to call in more units to watch for anyone who tries to leave."

Bradford pulls his phone out of his pocket. "On it."

* * *

"You ready?" Angela asks Wesley when he meets her at the division.

He sucks in a breath. "As ready as I'll…" He catches sight of a well-dressed man carrying a briefcase. "Hey, I recognize him. I saw him at court once, filing a motion for Serj Derian. What's he doing here?"

"I think he's the lawyer the drug dealer Harper picked up called. Stay here a second, I'll check with her."

Harper's jaw grinds. "That lawyer works for the f***ing Derians? He could be connected with what happened to Nolan, or lead us to someone who is. You get with Calderone, and I'll give Grey a heads up."

"Wesley and I are supposed to go into our act tonight," Angela points out, "so I can get my foot in the door with the Derians."

"Did that lawyer see you?" Harper queries.

"I don't think so."

"We'll double-check with Grey and Calderone, but you should probably go ahead. We'll come at the Derians from two directions at once."

Angela beams. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

John scrubs the dirt from his body. He buried soaker hoses under four different future vegetable beds and made sure he had the right amendments to his soil. He also put in a few hours with Joshua Gomez. The first house on his project is shaping up faster than he believed it could. He snapped some pictures and proudly transmitted them to Councilman Abbott.

Of course, Grey's call comes while John's in the shower. When else? But he doesn't mind wiping up the water that dripped on the floor when he answered his phone. Grey didn't go into detail, but he reported that the division has a new angle on the Derians. More to the point, Commander West cleared John to return to work. He'll be behind the front desk until a few more details are sewn up about the drugs and money found in his wall, but at least he'll be wearing his badge again.

Throughout the day, John's curiosity about the SDB development in Jefferson Park has been growing. If the Derians have been cutting corners to the point of committing fraud, he has the eyes to spot it. It wouldn't do much good to go to a model. Slipshod work and materials will be well hidden or disguised under the paint and upgraded wall to wall carpeting. What he needs is to get a look at one of the homes under construction – or get someone with permission to be there to do it. Joshua said he has friends who've worked for the Derians, and might again. Maybe for a few extra bucks or a place where they can cook some decent food for their families, they'd be willing to take some pictures. It can't hurt to find out. As soon as he finishes drying off, he gives Joshua a call.

* * *

When Angela interlaces her fingers with Wesley's, it has nothing to do with her cover. She hates to admit it, even to herself, but she's nervous. As a lawyer, Wesley's more used to pasting whatever expression fits the situation on his face than she is. If she's going to be a detective, and damn it she is, she'll have to get good at it fast, starting now. Wesley raises his eyebrows, and she nods. They stroll into the showroom with a bounce befitting a loving couple looking to build a life together – which they are.

A salesman whose deliberately casual hairstyle is outmatched only by a suit carefully cut to disguise a paunch, turns from a wall display of carpet samples. His welcoming smile approaches but never reaches his eyes. "I'm Ray. How may I help you?"

"We're looking for a house," Angela semi-gushes.

"Well, you came to the right place," Ray assures her. "Best deals in L.A. I can give you some brochures with the details of our development." He waves toward a bridge to adjoining buildings. "The models are right through there. Take your time, have a look, and decide which one will fulfill your dream. We have homes to fit lifestyles from free and adventurous to striving for the top. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here to answer all your questions."

"Sounds good," Wesley responds, turning to Angela. "Ready to look?"

Grinning, Angela pulls him along as she leads the way. She gazes around at the inviting furniture and bright walls in the first model. "If this is supposed to be crap, it would have fooled me," she admits.

"Me too," Wesley confesses. "But I never paid much attention to things like that, as long as I could get around without tripping on anything." Angela shoots him a dirty look at the mild jab at her housekeeping skills. He hurries to change the subject before the hole he dug for himself gets any bigger. "If we had brought my mother, she could probably point out half a dozen things that look cheap in about 30 seconds. But she's not the person SDB is trying to sell. They want buyers who are easy to dazzle. It looks like that might even fit us."

"I guess that's good," Angela figures. "So, we might as well spend the time it takes to actually look around. We'll figure out which house would be the most expensive and give Ray the rest of our show."

* * *

At midnight, Serj Derian pulls his Maserati into a space in a parking garage and signals to a man lounging against a cinder block wall. "You sweep this place, Haig?"

"Yeah, it's clean," Serj's lieutenant answers. "The only cameras are over the exits to catch anyone who tries to rabbit without paying."

"Good, you got the video from the models?"

Haig hands a hard drive through the car's open window. "Complete up to an hour ago. I haven't watched the feed from tonight, but Ray thinks he's got a couple of buyers on the hook. And a woman in love with the extended Winslow wants a job replacing Betsy, so she can make enough money to afford the mortgage. Stupid bitch didn't show up, and Ray had to cover her shift. I told him he could give the new one a try. She's hungry, and we can use that. She's coming back tomorrow night."

"You make sure Ray keeps tabs on her," Serj instructs, stroking the hard drive with his fingertips. "I love watching these jerkoffs, and I'll have Milena go through the video too, for anything we can use to get more marks to sign on the line. I'll let Ray know if she wants to change any of the setups. See if you can find out what happened to Betsy. We don't need any loose ends."

"Yes, boss," Haig agrees, "I'll take care of it."


	42. Chapter 42

Restoration

Chapter 41

John's feet are beginning to remind him that it's getting close to the end of his shift when a man in work clothes approaches the front desk. "Officer Nolan?"

"Yes, Mr. —"

"José, just call me José."

"All right, José, what can I do for you?" John asks.

José lowers his voice to a whisper. "Joshua Gomez tell me to come talk to you."

Nolan signals to another cop to cover and leads José to the empty break room. "We can talk here. Are you a day worker for S.D.B.?"

"A few times when they say they want me. I go tomorrow. Joshua say you look for bad jobs, dangerous houses."

"Have you seen any?" John queries.

José nods. "Bad roof. Not enough shingles, not overlap right. Should be fireproof, but no stamp, no paper."

John's throat tightens. "If there's wind and a spark, the whole house, the whole neighborhood could go up. Maybe more than that. I haven't lived in Southern California that long, but I've already seen it happen. I'd hate to see it again. Are you going to work for S.D.B. tomorrow?"

José stares down at the table. "_Si_. Don't like, but have three boys. Need the money."

"You don't have to explain," John assures him. "I understand taking care of your family. But you could help protect other families, maybe a lot of them. Can you take pictures?"

The sweat stain on José's collar darkens. "I get fired if anyone see me. But I try."

Nolan hands him a card. "You can text them to this number then erase them from your phone, so you don't get caught. Don't take any chances, but please try to do what you can."

"_Si_. I do." José promises.

* * *

Serj would have liked to watch the video from the model homes earlier. The chatter from potential buyers who come through is practically a how-to on how to foist his cheap units on them. He gets even more of a charge out of eavesdropping on private conversations. A few times, couples even tried to experience the homes by making out. Watching them was better than some of the porn movies he's seen. Melina warned him there might be a problem and what he hears pops the muscles in his jaw. A f***ing cop is spying on him. It all makes sense now. Haig found out Betsy got picked up, creating the perfect opportunity for a cop to go after her job. When that cop comes in tonight to take it, she'll be in for a surprise, one she won't like. His people had no trouble hiding drugs and money in that bleeding heart cop's place. Taking care of the plant at the showroom should be an easy job.

* * *

Ray flashes a too-bright smile as Angela shows up for her first night at work, and hands her a clipboard with an employment questionnaire. She fills it out with the details of the cover Calderone drilled into her, including a former salary too low to afford an extended Winslow. The nod of approval from Ray comes a little too fast. She's seen enough suspects holding out on her to believe he's hiding something – aside from selling sh*t houses. But she can't pick up on what it is. Still smiling, he gives her a stack of brochures to memorize in between greeting potential buyers. She's staked out a position in front of a large famed artist's rendering of the development so that she can see his reflection in the glass. Every few minutes, he throws a suspicious glance her way, giving her a bad feeling, the kind she's had before when situations suddenly went south. As soon as Ray is distracted trying to sell a buyer on upgrades, Angela texts a message to Calderone. If something is going down, they'll need to be ready for it.

Calderone's fingers tighten on her cellphone. "Shit!" If the Derians made Lopez, she should get her out of there, but she has no evidence that's happened. Ray might have an entirely different reason for being nervous – like cheating his customers. As far as Rita can tell, Angela's in no immediate danger. Trying to take her out where some house hunter could walk in at any time would be over the top – even for Derian's thugs. Calderone texts Lopez to watch her back and keep playing her role. But she'll call in back up just in case.

* * *

"When are you going to do it?" Serj presses Haig.

"Ray will have her staying through closing tonight and then make an excuse for her to lock up," Haig explains. "I figure giving her the keys will put her off her guard. I'll have our guys in place to go after her at her car. The lights in the lot are on a timer to go out. Ray's going to make sure it happens a little early. She'll never see them coming."

* * *

The key to the showroom doesn't turn easily. "Even the lock here is crap," Angela mutters to herself. She finally hears the bolt grind into place, just as the parking area darkens. "Damn!" She wishes she had an L.A.P.D. issue torch, but the small Mag-Lite she stowed in her purse with her back up piece is the best she can do. Holding her gun in one hand, she aims the thin but powerful beam with the other.

From a van across the street, Calderone watches through a night scope, spotting two figures lurking in the shadows a few feet from Lopez's car. She grabs her radio. "Move! Now!"

Lopez reacts even before she's actively conscious of an onslaught, kicking back and protecting her gun from being grabbed. She gains a few feet of distance and points her weapon at the attackers trying to aim their guns at her. "L.A.P.D. I wouldn't do that."

One of the men smirks. "Two guns against one."

With Calderone close behind them, two of her men take positions covering Angela. "That's four against two," the detective points out. "And I've seen officer Lopez here on the shooting range. She doesn't really need the help."

"Down on your knees, hands behind your heads," Lopez commands.

Calderone holds up a pair of handcuffs. "Want to do the honors, Lopez?"

Angela takes the cuffs. "Thanks, but we could use zip ties. These guys hardly rate the steel."

* * *

"How the hell did Ray f**k things up?" Serj demands, charging out of his Maserati. "Who did he send after the cop?"

"Gor and Davit," Haig replies.

"Muscles but no brains. Did you have that lawyer, Vartanian, go tell them to keep their mouths shut?"

"As soon as I heard what happened," Haig claims, "but they were with the cops at least a couple of hours before he got there."

Serj slams his palm against the hood of his car. "What about Ray? Where's he?"

"Home sleeping, I think. From what Vartanian got out of our guys, Ray left before things went to hell.

"Ray is done! Send whoever it takes, but he doesn't wake up tomorrow," Serj commands. "And find what you can on that cop. We can't pull a number on her like we did on that asshole rookie, Nolan, but there might be something we can use. Sh*t! The whole real estate thing is turning into one big clusterf**k. The office and the models are closed, as of now. I need to talk to Ruben about how we pull out of the development deal. Maybe we can pawn it off on some mark. But we need to keep a lid on things until we do. _Du haskanum yes_?"

"Sure, boss," Haig acknowledges. "I get you loud and clear."


	43. Chapter 43

Restoration

Chapter 43

As he mounts the roof, José is nervous for two reasons. One is that he isn't sure the poorly constructed, substandard lumber frame of the house will support him. The other is that he's going to use the cellphone in his back pocket to take pictures to send to Joshua's cop. As Joshua pointed out, families will be moving into homes that will fall apart on them and might even hurt their children. José can't live with being a part of that.

Two other men are working on the roof with José. They don't get the breaks that Joshua told him California law requires, but they do take a few minutes to grab something to eat and use the portable toilets. If José is alone for even a short time, he can take the pictures he needs and send them to Officer Nolan. After that, he can feel a little bit better about having to work for the kind of men who would build houses like this.

* * *

When Nolan gets a text alert, there are six people queued up at the desk, waiting to get his attention. He does the best he can to be responsive and control any evidence of his impatience but is relieved to stamp a form from the last person in line. He pulls his phone out of his pocket before anyone else can show up that requires his services. The photos from José are even better than he'd hoped, containing close-ups of shoddy materials and construction. He doesn't dare send José an acknowledgment in case it's discovered, but he can have Joshua thank him.

John forwards the pictures to Calderone as well as the offices of the building inspector and Councilman Abbot. One way or another, he'll spur an investigation. It won't be as dramatic as what Lopez managed to accomplish, but it may save some families money and even prevent the next big fire. He's also managing to do something beyond dealing with police bureaucracy. That feels good.

* * *

Sandwiched between Gor and Davit is not Erik Vartanian's favorite place to be. Neither thug is very bright, and after a night in a cell, they don't smell too great either, but they're not paying his retainer. Serj Derian is picking up the tab, and his right hand, Haig, gave Erik strict orders to keep these two from shooting off their mouths. That may be easier said than done. He told them to shut up when he arrived at 3 a.m., but they'd already been in police custody for hours. He has a bad feeling.

Angela Lopez slides into a seat opposite the Derian operatives, accompanied by Detective Calderone and Tim Bradford. "Counselor, I believe that your clients became acquainted with Officer Bradford last night."

Gor and Davit turn to the lawyer in confusion, vigorously shaking their heads. "Maybe this will help," Angela suggests, sliding a photo of a man in a dirty hoodie, with a day's growth of stubble, across the table. "He's always looked better with a shave and in his uniform."

"Officer Bradford, what did you hear when you were occupying a cell with Officer Lopez's attackers?" Rita inquires.

"They were wondering if Serj Derian would still pay them since they got caught," Tim offers. "And Gor there was complaining that he was still sore where 'the bitch,' which I took as a reference to Officer Lopez, kicked him when he grabbed her."

Gor reddens as Vartanian protests. "You can't use that against my clients."

"Actually, we could," Rita argues. "Officer Bradford didn't solicit anything they said, and they had no expectation of privacy. They were in a public place. But we don't need to. We have multiple witnesses to their attack on Officer Lopez. Trying to kill a cop buys some pretty heavy time. You know that, counselor."

"You two just keep your traps shut, and I'll get you out of here," Vartanian promises Gor and Davit.

"For what? For Serj Derian to take them out as witnesses against him?" Calderone argues.

Lopez stares across the table at Gor and Davit. "Mr. Vartanian doesn't care about you. He works for the Derians. You're a danger to them, and you both know firsthand what the Derians do to anyone they think is a threat. You two have one chance to save your asses, and Mr. Vartanian is not about to let you take it."

Gor and Davit look at each other. "We want another lawyer," Davit announces.

"Smart move," Calderone counsels.

* * *

Wesley gapes at Angela. "You want me to recommend a lawyer for the two men who attacked you?"

"Well, obviously, you can't represent them. You have a conflict of interest. But we need someone who can keep them set against Derian's guy, Vartanian, and can make a deal for them. They want to spill their guts, Babe. They just need an attorney who can help them through the process. Do you know anyone?"

"I know a lot of anyones, but despite the fact that those goons attacked you, my ethics tell me they deserve a fair shake." Smiling, Wesley cups her cheek. "I'll make some calls and see who else with an office over a store is available."

* * *

Nolan doesn't peg the woman coming up to the desk as part of the steady stream of citizens seeking to file complaints. She doesn't have the staring-around-the lobby-what-am-I-doing-here, look. What she does have are a battered briefcase and an attitude. She presents him with a business card, the kind advertised on T.V. at $10.99 for a box of 250. "I have two clients waiting, Gor Roben and Davit Fakrajian."

John notes her name. "Ms. Jepson, yes, counselor, I was told to expect you. I'll call Detective Calderone to come and get you. You'll be representing her suspects."

While she's waiting, Janet Jepson's eyes sweep subtly but appreciatively up and down John Nolan. From the lack of stripes on his sleeve, he has to be new to the L.A.P.D., but he's the oldest newbie she's ever seen. He's also one of the better-looking ones. Janet's no badge bunny, but there's something about Officer Nolan that intrigues her. She can't do anything about it at the moment. She has a job to do. But she knows where the cops from Mid-Wilshire hang out. She could get a beer there some time, and if Officer Nolan happens to show up, well, who knows?

Calderone approaches the desk. "Ms. Jepson, I'll take you to see Mr. Roben and Mr. Fakrajian. I do warn you, not only did they attack a police officer, but the attack was witnessed by myself and two other officers."

"Still innocent until proven guilty, Detective Calderone," Janet retorts. "They had better not have been abused in any way."

Calderone gestures for Jepson to follow her. "I assure you, counselor, they could not have been handled more carefully."

Nolan can't help watching Janet Jepson go. He knows more beautiful women. Hell, he works with at least three more beautiful women. But there's something about Janet that grabs his interest. Too bad she's involved in the Derian case, if only tangentially. But she won't be forever. Neither will he. At least he hopes not.

Oh, God! Is that Grace coming in? Her face is bruised. Nolan's fingers curl into fists. If that sonofabitch husband of hers did anything to her… And what about Oliver? John's about to find out. She's coming straight for the desk. "Grace, what the hell happened?"


	44. Chapter 44

Restoration

Chapter 44

"I'm not sure what happened, John," Grace insists. "It was crazy. I was scheduled to be off-duty today. I took Oliver to school then went back home to catch up on a few things, and Eric came in. He was supposed to be at his new job, but he said he got fired, something about a lie on his resume. I don't know why, but he blamed me. He claimed I set him up so he couldn't go for custody of Oliver. I've never seen him like that."

"Your husband attacked you?" John presses.

"He came after me, slapped me. I used what I learned at that self-defense class Angela gave us at the hospital and got away from him. Then I called the school to make sure he couldn't go after Oliver."

John reaches out to gently stroke her face. "Did you go to the hospital to get checked out?"

"I'm OK, John. I know the symptoms. Nothing's broken."

"How many times have you heard an abused woman tell you she was OK when she wasn't? I'll get someone to watch the desk and take you, Grace, right now. Even if you're right about not being seriously hurt, we still have to document the injuries you have. You of all people should know that. And then you need to file a complaint against Eric, get a restraining order. You know that too. You've seen enough of your patients end up back in the E.R., who didn't do it. I've been there when some of them came in."

"I know John, but Oliver is going to end up in the middle between Eric and me. I hate to do that to him."

"You aren't doing it to him; Eric is, and the longer it goes on, the worse it's going to be. But listen, Grace, you have friends here, people who'll watch out for you and Oliver. You don't have to go through this alone."

"After what I did to you, are you my friend, John?"

Nolan shrugs. "I'm a cop, and you're a victim of domestic violence. For now, I'll concentrate on that."

* * *

Janet Jepson's had more than a few clients like Gor Roben and Davit Fakrajian, the not so bright or even learning disabled sons in ambitious families. They're encouraged to use what assets they have, in whatever way they can manage. Operators like the Derians scoop them up and dispose of them when they're no longer useful.

Usually, the Gors and Davits of the world are grateful to be wanted and follow orders faithfully, right up until the time they get arrested. Then they get screwed over or taken out. Gor and Davit may have caught a break, and not just in having Janet for a lawyer. They have something to sell, and she'll make sure they get the best deal possible.

First, she has to get a guarantee they'll be protected. The Derians have a long reach, and over the years, she's been aware of members of the L.A.P.D. being way too friendly with the mobsters. So far, she doesn't know of anyone at Mid-Wilshire with that kind of entanglement, but she's not familiar with everyone there. She'll have to keep her eyes and ears open.

* * *

"I told you I was OK, John," Grace declares as Nolan helps her down from an examining table.

"Physically, maybe," John agrees, "but your situation with Eric is a mess. I'm not sure it's even safe for you or Oliver to go back to your place. You could stay with me for a while – in the guest room. The couch folds out to a bed. Oliver would be comfortable there. And you already know where everything is."

"Are you sure you want to do that, John? I mean…"

"Look, Grace, I'm not looking to restart a romance with you. Been there. Done that. It didn't work out. You lied to me, and I have a hard time getting past that. But you and Oliver need help, and I'm in a position to give it to you. You could come, at least for tonight, and then if the situation isn't under control, figure out your next step. It will be for Oliver's good as well as yours."

"You're right about that, John," Grace admits. "I have to keep Oliver safe. All right, We'll stay with you tonight, and then we'll figure things out from there."

"Yeah, we'll figure things out from there," Nolan repeats.

* * *

John would have liked to go with Grace to pick up Oliver at school, but precarious as his position is in the department, he needs to finish his shift at the desk. He remotely unlocked his door for Grace when she arrived at his home with her son. He'll give her an extra key when he gets there himself.

After sitting Oliver down to do his homework at John's desk," Grace gazes around John's home. It hasn't been that long since she was there, but it seems like a lifetime. His workmanship is impeccable. She'd never expect anything less. The furnishings also shout male. Other than the shoe rack that he admitted Jessica talked him into putting into his closet; there are no feminine touches at all. That shouldn't make Grace happy, but it does.

John's upset that she deceived him about her divorce, and that she went back to her husband. He has every right to be upset and even angry. But there's still a connection between them. She can feel it. Maybe he'll be able to forgive her the way she forgave him for what happened 20 years ago. Forgiving herself for being such an idiot may be even harder than receiving absolution from John.

* * *

Janet is well aware that there are multiple exits from the Mid-Wilshire Division. She just isn't interested in using one that doesn't take her back through the lobby and past Officer Nolan. She chooses a path that allows her to view him from the back and is not disappointed. No man gets a butt like that by spending all his time sitting on it. Nolan is tight. As she bids him a totally unnecessary goodbye, he also seems a little distracted. Too bad. It might have been nice to try for a bit of conversation. Maybe it's just as well. She has things to do. The first will be sitting down with a law school buddy at the D.A.s office and feeling her out about a deal for Gor and Davit. Janet's friend can also help her confirm that they'll be protected.

Calderone assured Janet that she'd make sure that no one gets to Gor and Davit, but the lawyer has only a passing acquaintance with the detective, and with the Derians sure to be gunning for her client, she needs more than assurances. The D.A. can provide that, and more.

Janet slides behind the wheel of her car. L.A. traffic is reaching its peak, but she's used to that. After her years in practice, she knows the least congested routes to the D.A.'s office and the courthouse from just about anywhere, particularly the various divisions. She throws a last glance back at Mid-Wilshire before turning her key in the ignition. What the hell is it about Officer Nolan, anyway? She'll have to make some time to find out.

* * *

John grabs a suitcase Grace hastily stuffed. After shuffling between his parents, Oliver is a more efficient packer than his mother. The boy slips his backpack over his thin shoulders and picks up his case of art supplies. Can I bring these?"

Grace exchanges a quick glance with John, who smiles his approval. She tries her best to echo his expression. "Of course you can."

"You can use my drawing table if you'd like," John adds. "You can put big paper on it and it has a thing called a T-square for making straight lines."

The boy grins. "Cool. Staying at Officer Nolan's house is going to be fun, isn't it, Mom?"

Grace tries her best to keep up her smile. "Sure, Oliver. We'll have a good time."


	45. Chapter 45

Restoration

Chapter 45

"Not that much here," John confesses, staring into the refrigerator. "I was planning on going shopping after work, but, you know. I could go now."

"I was here. I should have thought about it," Grace insists. "Before I send you out again, let me see what I can do." She gazes into John's newly crafted pantry. "You've got spaghetti!"

"Old standby for cheap meals," John admits, "but I've only got canned sauce and a parmesan shaker."

"But if you've got milk, butter, and flour, we're set," Grace declares, checking around the kitchen. "Great, you do, and somewhere in the depths of my memory, I'm picturing you with white sauce on your nose."

He smiles at recalled images. "Our Alfredo fight. I can't believe we threw pasta at each other."

Grace presses a finger to her lips, gazing at Oliver, hunched in deep concentration over John's drawing table. "Don't give him any ideas. But anyway, I can make Alfredo, and you have enough odd vegetables in your fridge to throw together a salad."

"Yeah, I've been putting in beds to grow some," John explains. "It helps to be prepared. In California, I never know who's going to turn out to be a vegan. In Pennsylvania, it wasn't much of a problem."

Grace fills John's largest pot with water and turns the heat up under it. "I had a few patients back there who were vegans – unless they were trying to put their doctor on. But anyway, I'll handle the pasta and the sauce if you'll take care of the veggies."

"Sold!" John agrees.

* * *

Janet jabs a fork at what's left of her salad while she goes over the case against Gor and Davit. Rita Calderone wasn't exaggerating when she announced she had them cold for attacking Angela Lopez. There is, however, nothing in their statements that suggests they were aware she was a cop. For all they knew, she could have been a spy for a competing builder. Her clients' ignorance isn't worth much, Janet considers, but it's better than nothing.

The deeper guilt lies with the Derians, and that's who Gor and Davit can help to bring down. That they got their instructions from Haig, Serj's right hand man, is a complication, but not an overwhelming one. The two hapless goons believed their orders came from the top. And if Calderone can use them to snare Haig, he is the direct connection to Serj. As Janet's friend pointed out over stuffed jalapeños and IPA, "Haig is the golden goose. The D.A. just has to singe his feathers enough to make him fly free of captivity."

And where Derian is concerned, Janet also got the lowdown on Officer Nolan and the attempted frame. Enough reasonable doubt exists to sink a battleship, which is why the rookie is conditionally back at work. But that's not the same as having a Derian stooge confess.

As it happens, Gor and Davit may be able to help out with that one – a lot. They claim to have been lookouts when drugs and money were planted at someone's home. They had no idea exactly whose house it was. They just knew it was some cop who got in the way of Serj Derian's expansion of his crooked developments. The pair said they heard something about the cop wanting to fix up old houses for the homeless, where the Derians planned to build new ones. Given what happened, that cop couldn't have been anyone but John Nolan.

The Derians had to be mad as hell at the well-meaning officer. Well, good for Nolan. How many cops can tick off mobsters without even making an arrest? The Derian story just makes John more interesting.

* * *

Oliver's small shoulders droop as he struggles to stay awake to finish his drawing. John's eyes meet Grace's in silent agreement before he approaches the boy. "Come on, Sport. You can work on that tomorrow, I promise. But you should go to bed. Your mom's tired, and she won't be able to sleep unless she knows you're tucked in for the night. Parents are like that sometimes."

Oliver yawns. "I know. Sometimes I'm awake when Mom comes to check on me. Can I leave my colored pencils here so I can finish this before I go to school?"

"Sure, Buddy. I won't touch a thing."

* * *

Other than when he sweats through enough physical labor to knock himself out, sleep hasn't come easily to John lately. But having Grace a room away, just makes him more restless. Having anything to do with a married woman, even to protect her from an abusive husband, isn't good for him.

John's also getting f***ing tired of women lying to him. First, Lucy wasn't straight about her motives. Then Jessica. Damn! He's still not sure how many lies the DHS agent told him. And after Jessica, Grace, making him think she was free when she was anything but. Regardless, he still cares about her and hates to think of Oliver being hurt. John punches his pillow and tries to get comfortable. His alarm will ring too soon, and tomorrow he'll have a lot of things to work out.

* * *

First thing in the morning, Janet uses city property records to look up the location of John Nolan's home. She could have waited to find him at the division and asked, but she was anxious to confirm her theory that it was where Gor and Davit were lookouts. Besides, asking the cop where he lives would sound like a pass. It might even be one. With her clients' possible involvement in framing Nolan, a move like that would be inappropriate, to say the least.

By the time Janet arrives at Nolan's residence of record, no one appears to be home. That uncomplicates matters. She snaps pictures on her phone before going to visit her clients at Men's Central Jail. When she shows them the photos separately, they both confirm that the house she's showing them is the one where they stood guard as the drugs and money were planted.

Janet would like nothing better than to take that news straight to Nolan, but she settles for going to see Rita Calderone. A Detective Harper, who Janet understands to be Nolan's training officer, comes into Calderone's office mid-conversation. When she hears what Janet's telling Calderone, Harper hustles the lawyer down the hall to the office of the watch commander.

Slipping his glasses on his nose, Sergeant Grey examines the pictures and statements from Gor and Davit. "So you're telling me that your clients can provide testimony that Officer Nolan was framed and that Serj Derian was responsible."

Janet impatiently taps the toe of her well-worn pump. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Grey picks up the receiver of his desk phone and punches in a code for IA Chief West. "Commander, there's someone you need to see."

* * *

Nolan's feet drag as he answers the summons to Grey's office. He swallows at the sight of Jackson's father, but his jaw drops as what passes for a smile appears on Grey's face, and the sergeant waves him in. "Officer Nolan," West announces, "we've received testimony that completely clears you of hiding the drugs and money in your home."

John struggles for words. "Needless to say, Sir, I'm grateful to hear that, but testimony from whom? How did you get it?"

"It came in as part of an ongoing case, Nolan," Grey explains. "Right now, that information is need-to-know, and you don't need to know. But, I suspect it won't be too long until it becomes a matter of record."

"Thank you, Sir, both sirs. So does this mean I can return to full duty?"

"Finish out your day at the desk," Grey instructs Nolan, "but you'll be back with Harper tomorrow. That's all, dismissed."

Nolan numbly exits Grey's office. What the hell just happened?


	46. Chapter 46

Restoration

Chapter 46

Harper checks Nolan's preparation of their vehicle before she pulls out. "It's about time you're back in the shop, Boot. After the time you lost, you're really going to have to kick it for the final stretch. And Lila's got an art project due. I can't help her with that, and neither can Donovan."

Nolan scans the street ahead. "Art tutor seems to be my mission these days. Oliver spent hours last night trying to make the perfect rendering of his mother."

"Oliver, Grace's son?" Harper asks. "John, what are you doing with her? I thought she went back to the husband she lied about divorcing."

"The sonofabitch attacked her. She's just with me until I can be sure she and Oliver are safe. That's it," John insists.

"The guardian is back on duty," Nyla declares. "You're just damn lucky someone played guardian for you."

"What are you talking about?" John demands. "Grey and Commander West told me they have testimony that clears me, but they wouldn't tell me where it came from."

"You'll find out when the D.A. makes a case against the Derians, but for now, I can tell you that you have a friend, Officer Nolan. You caught a break. Don't screw it up. And don't let Grace Sawyer screw things up for you either," Nyla warns.

"I wasn't planning on it." John points at a man on the sidewalk. "Does that guy look like he's eying that woman's bag?"

"Yes, he does," Harper confirms. "And now he's doing more than eying it. Go get him, Boot!"

The purse snatcher is a good 20 years younger than John, and the cop can feel the passage of most of those years as he tackles the young man to the concrete sidewalk and cuffs him. By the time his shift is over, he's going to be longing for a very long and very hot shower.

* * *

"You can do better than that," Janet Jepson argues with an A.D.A. She's clashed with plenty of them over the years, but this one is new, a replacement for the corrupt Del Monte. Anxious to make a name for himself, he's tight-fisted about deals. She spears him with a gaze developed through years of experience. "Look, Mr. Botts, didn't Del Monte drag your office through enough mud for the next three decades? If you screw up this deal and Derian squirms off the hook, the public will assume you're just another dirty lawyer working for the bad guys. No judge or jury will believe a word you tell them. You'll be lucky if you can get a job teaching pre-law at Podunk University. My clients can play a big part in bringing Serj Derian down. They deserve something for that."

"And what do they deserve for beating on a cop?" Botts throws back.

"They didn't know Angela Lopez was a cop, and she is all for using my clients to get Derian," Janet returns. "If you want to ask her, she's expecting your call."

Botts' arms cross tightly against his chest. "Roben and Fakrajian are not getting off scot-free. That would encourage every thug in the city to go after the police. What are you looking for?"

Janet forces down the bubble of triumph rising in her throat. "Minimum sentence in minimum security."

"Medium security," Botts counteroffers.

"Fine, medium security," Janet agrees.

"And they'd better come through," Botts adds, "or the deal's off."

"Oh, they'll come through," Janet assures him.

* * *

John guided Grace through the process of reporting her assault by Eric, but getting a restraining order will be more complicated. She talked to a lawyer when she and Eric separated, but she hasn't been in touch with one since. And a divorce attorney's not the kind of lawyer she needs right now, anyway. Not sure who she does need, she knocks on the door of the legal advocate at the hospital.

Phyllis Lucatis looks up from her desk, quickly assessing the bruises on Grace's face. She points her to a chair. "Tell me what happened."

As Grace finishes her account, Phyllis' pen vibrates against a thick folder on her desk. "Your cop friend is right. You should get a restraining order. I can put that in motion. Even if the police arrest your husband, he'll most likely be out fast. And until the court is on your side, you and your son will need a safe place to stay. Is your friend good for that, too?"

"That's another long story, but he's not too happy with me right now. And he has good reason not to be. He'll probably let us stay as long as it takes to get the order – for Oliver's sake. But if not, we could find a room somewhere."

"Whatever you decide, make sure I know where you settle," Phyllis advises.

* * *

Nolan's had a tough time getting the man he arrested for indecent exposure to stay covered up, but once he herds him behind a locked door, it won't matter much. When you finish your paperwork, that should be it for the day, Boot," Harper informs him. "Lila's with me, and she needs to turn in her project in the morning. We really could use your help tonight."

"I got a text from Grace while you were in line at the food truck," Nolan confesses. "She has someone working on a restraining order against Eric, but she wants to stay with me until she gets it. She offered to find a hotel, but she thinks staying will be easier on Oliver."

"Easier on Oliver, huh? She knows how to pull your strings."

"So do you. I have a soft spot for Lily, and you know it."

"I get your point, Nolan," Nyla admits. "What did you tell Grace?"

"I told her that she and Oliver can stay until she gets her restraining order. But look," John proposes, "you can bring Lily over. My drawing table is big enough for two kids to share. I can work with both of them. And I think Oliver can use a nonadult friend right now. We could order pizza."

"Lily's on an El Pollo Loco kick. We can bring dinner," Nyla suggests. "What time? I don't want Lily up late on a school night."

"Grace won't want Oliver up late either. Do you think I can get the paperwork done in time to make it seven?"

Harper holds out her arms. "Give me half of it."

* * *

Serj's tires screech as he pulls to a stop in the parking garage. He charges out of his car as Haig comes to meet him. "What did your source say?"

"That those idiots Gor and Davit are going to spill their guts. Somehow they got themselves a smart lawyer who made a deal for them. They know who gave the orders about Jefferson Park, and they know who planted money and drugs in that cop's house."

"Have them taken out!" Serj orders.

Haig helplessly spreads his arms. "Can't, the D.A. put a watch on them. None of our guys can get close."

"Without their lawyer, they're still up sh*t creek. Who took them on?"

"A bitch named Janet Jepson. She's been around the block, knows the ropes."

"I don't care what she knows. Women shut their mouths when they're dead. You find her and kill her. You're in this deeper than I am. Gor and Davit got their orders from you. They can't swear that any of it came from me. You better make this go away before the cops come for you."

Muscles pop on Haig's jaw. "I'll take care of it."


	47. Chapter 47

Restoration

Chapter 47

Lila eyes Oliver. "I have to finish a thing for school tonight. What do you need to draw for?"

The boy scuffs his sneakers against the carpet in John's living room. "My mom is sad, and I want to make a picture to cheer her up."

"Well, OK," Lila allows, "I guess we can share Officer Nolan."

"Who wants El Pollo Loco?" Nyla calls from the kitchen, bringing both youngsters running.

Grace and John exchange looks, and he grins. "We'd better hurry before they pick the platter clean.

* * *

The car Haig borrowed from Serj's chop shop won't draw any notice in Janet Jepson's neighborhood. Instead of a designer model, it's one of the older, more popular cars worth more as parts than a functioning vehicle. The boys will cut it up as soon as he brings it back.

Haig would have expected a lawyer with Jepson's experience to have better digs, but word is that she's a bleeding heart more interested in helping the underdog than building her bank account. That makes her dangerous, especially defending Gor and Davit. She'll stand up for the losers, no matter what. He has to take her out before she does any more damage. No light shines from her windows. She's probably at her office, but he doesn't dare check and miss her. He can wait for his shot. He just wishes he'd brought some coffee. Serj would have willingly provided him with something more potent than caffeine, but that junk is the last thing Haig wants to fool around with.

It's 2 a.m. when Janet drags herself down the stairs from her office and into her car. Fortunately, her apartment isn't far away, and if it weren't for the traffic lights, she could make the drive blindfolded. The lawyer is tired but satisfied. She's managed to dig up any case law that could apply to Gor and Davit, and she's sure that Botts hasn't been half as conscientious. As long as they come through with the information they promised, she'll be able to keep Botts to his deal.

It's too bad that her clients could only give her information on Serj Derian's lieutenant, known to them only as Haig. Evidence directly against Derian would have bought them a lot more, but she has to work with what she has. She's not hopeful of finding a parking spot within a block of her apartment. Everything is always parked up by three in the afternoon, but the lot at the strip mall a few blocks away usually has spaces, and if she pulls out before business picks up in the morning, no one will get on her for parking there.

She drives into a slot, wrapping her fingers around a canister of pepper spray before getting out of her car. There aren't many people walking around this time of night. The few pedestrians are usually making the trip from local bars to the subway, but occasionally someone is out looking for trouble. Muggers have tried to prey on her a few times, but she's no easy target.

Haig lifts his head from the steering wheel, struggling to focus on the glowing dial of his Tag Heuer. It's 3 a.m., and there's a light in Janet Jepson's apartment. Damn! He missed seeing her come home. He could try to break in, but a savvy lawyer will have locks and a security system. The last thing he needs is to attract attention.

As late as she was out, she'll have to sleep for a while. He'll go home and catch a few winks himself. He can come after her in the morning. The door to her building opens a few feet from an airshaft. Even in the daylight, hiding in there, he can grab her and do his job before anyone knows what happened. A woman with her throat cut can't shout for help.

* * *

A reluctantly awakening John hears someone in the kitchen. He's reaching for his gun when the sound of Oliver's bouncy step reminds him that Grace and her son are still his guests. Pulling on a pair of sweats over his shorts, he pads barefoot to see what Grace is doing.

Grace startles as she hears someone behind her before realizing that it's John. He empathizes with her reaction. He had it for months after the bank robbery that made him decide to become a cop but resists the urge to put a calming arm around her. He doesn't want to give her any hope of resuming a relationship as anything more than friends. "Good morning."

She puts down the knife she was using to cut fresh fruit. "Good morning to you, too. I thought I'd get an early start, so I'll have plenty of time to drop Oliver at school before my shift. I want to get an update on my restraining order, too."

John nods. "That's a good idea. The faster it comes through, the better."

Grace's eyes harden. "You really want me out of here, don't you, John?"

"Look, I admit that having you here isn't easy for me. What you did hurt, and I'm trying to heal. But I want you and Oliver to be safe, Grace. Getting your restraining order will be a major step in that direction. And I'm glad we're all up. I need to go over some things before I go to roll call this morning. Harper is going to be pushing me hard."

"She should go easy on you after the way you helped Lila last night," Grace assumes. "She owes you a favor."

"Going easy on me wouldn't be doing me any favors," John explains. "I lost a lot of time on the street because of the drugs and money planted here. Every minute out there will have to count if I'm going to make it up."

"I understand," Grace asserts, turning back to the stove. "So, how do you want your eggs, scrambled, or over easy?"

"Might as well make them scrambled," John decides. "They'll match everything else going on in my life right now."

* * *

Janet fumbles to turn off her old-fashioned clock radio. She could use her phone or computer as an alarm, but she spent years waking up to the news and still likes to kick-start her day by hearing what's going on in the world. It's not good. It rarely is, but no wildfire or terrorist attack is threatening L.A. at that moment. Things could be worse.

She only grabbed a few hours of sleep, but she's managed on less. She'll get her motions filed and check on her clients, including Gor and Davit. Once she's accomplished that, she might be lucky enough to catch a catnap in her office. Power naps have been a survival strategy for her since law school, and so far, they're still keeping her going.

Haig pulls onto Janet's street just in time to spot her in her car, going the other way. Sh*t! If he'd been five minutes earlier, he could have taken care of business when she left her apartment. Now he'll have to follow her for his chance. It better be soon. If he doesn't do her today, Serj will turn on him, offering every one of his soldiers a bounty for Haig's death. Haig's seen it happen before. He just never thought it would happen to him. He swears that it won't happen to him now. He'll take out that bitch Jepson, and he'll take her out this morning. He has no choice.


	48. Chapter 48

Restoration

Chapter 48

After checking in on Gor and Davit, Janet can use a cup of coffee – very strong coffee. The two are starting to drift from their determination to tell their stories, as fear of the Derian organization seeps into what passes for their minds. Janet had to work hard to convince them; reconvince them, actually, that the only way to save their asses is to spill everything they know. By the time she finished, they had come around, but she can feel the effort wearing on her.

The best place she knows to get a brew strong enough to give her the boost she needs is a vendor that sets up as close to the detainment facility as he legally can. Frustrated lawyers alone are probably enough to support his business, no matter how corrosive the product. With her purse held characteristically tight against her body and her battered briefcase in her other hand, she begins her walk toward caffeine nirvana.

"Stopped at a red light, Harper turns toward Nolan. "I'm worried about you, Boot. Are you sick or something?"

John's confusion is evident in his gaping mouth. "Fine, why?"

"Because you've barely said a word that wasn't job-related all morning. That's not like John Nolan."

"Just thinking, I guess."

"Grace?"

"Uh-huh," John admits. "I shouldn't have her staying with me."

"So you're finally getting some sense in your head? What are you going to do?" Nyla inquires.

"Try and find somewhere else that she and Oliver can be safe until her restraining order comes through. I checked with Victims' Services, and the shelters are overflowing, but I'm looking into another possibility. I left a message with a friend. I should hear back soon and... Hey, I recognize that woman. She's the lawyer defending the thugs who attacked Lopez. It looks like the man in that car is following her."

"He is," Harper confirms. "Call in his plate, and we'll watch him. Looks like he might be parking to follow her on foot."

Haig pulls into a space in a public lot and rapidly strides to the sidewalk where he can spot Jepson again. Spying her putting in an order at a cart labeled "Dark and Strong," he finds cover in a narrow space between buildings. With any luck, he can grab her unnoticed as she passes.

John watches Haig disappear from sight. "What the hell is he doing?"

"Find out, Boot," Harper urges.

Nolan is halfway to the dark recess when Janet approaches, carrying an extra-large container of coffee. The pepper spray in her pocket is out of her reach as Haig lunges from the shadows to grab her. The tip of her pump makes solid contact with his shin, and she raises her knee to his groin but misses as he shoves her against a wall.

Nolan approaches at a run, pulling his gun as Haig snaps open a blade, attempting to aim it at Janet's throat. She yells fire at the top of her lungs.

"Police, drop the knife," Nolan orders.

The weapon falls from Haig's fingers as Janet's practiced hand chops him across his knuckles. "You're under arrest," Nolan informs him, kicking away the blade.

Harper arrives, pulling her cuffs from her belt. She snaps them on Haig's wrists. "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

"Fine," Janet responds. "Officer Nolan appeared at an opportune moment."

John's eyes sweep over the lawyer in admiration. "Something tells me that if I hadn't, you could have handled your attacker."

"We'll never know, will we, Officer Nolan?" Janet asks.

"Nolan, secure the suspect and the weapon in the shop for transport," Harper orders, before turning to Janet. "Ma'am, can you meet us at the Mid-Wilshire division to give Officer Nolan your statement?"

Janet regards the dark liquid now spilled out on the concrete. "I need to get another coffee first, but it will be my pleasure."

* * *

Nolan passes Janet her statement to sign. "If every witness were as forthcoming as you are, my job would be a lot easier."

"So would mine," Janet agrees, "but I might not have one long, either. Digging out what really happened is a large part of what I have to do, if nothing else, to get a decent bargaining position."

John regards the defense attorney. "I get the feeling that you're good at it."

Janet holds his gaze. "I'm very good at it."

"Are you familiar with domestic abuse cases?" John queries.

"I attempt to stay away from them like the plague they are," Janet confides. "I've had potential clients of both genders who've had some pretty vile accusations thrown at them. Unfortunately, more often than not, they're true. I don't want any part of sending someone who beats on a spouse back to do it again, just because I can show the prosecution couldn't prove what happened. Many victims are terrified of how the defense will attack them if they work up the nerve to testify. I try not to be in the business of making their misery worse."

"How about making something better?" John asks. "Um, hypothetically, a woman's husband freaks out and goes after her. Her face is bruised, but her injuries aren't serious. She files a report and starts the process to get a restraining order, but she needs a safe place that she and her son can stay. Where would you advise her to go?"

"Hypothetically," Janet responds, "where are this woman and her son now?"

"With a male friend, or more like a former friend, a cop."

"But it's an uncomfortable situation, um, hypothetically?"

"Hypothetically, yes," John admits.

"And hypothetically, she has a means of financial support?" Janet presses.

"Yes."

"Then, Officer Nolan, I don't have to tell you that resources for victims are overburdened. There are women in much worse shape than the one you describe, with no money and no place to go. So my advice to your hypothetical woman would be to find a spot her hypothetical husband has no knowledge exists and go there with her son. If she hasn't already, she should hire a good lawyer. She'll need one even after her R.O. comes through, especially with a child involved. I can give you a list," Janet offers, "but I won't be on it."

"I understand." Nolan offers her his card. "Call me if you think of something else about your attack, or if you want to talk about anything."

"For reasons that will eventually become clear to you, Officer Nolan, discussing anything with you outside the details of the attack on me could constitute a conflict of interest. But I appreciate the offer," Janet adds.

"I don't understand."

"You will, Officer Nolan. We need cops like you. I'm glad you're on the street. But I have a lot of work waiting for me, so if that's all, I should leave now."

"Of course," John agrees. "I'll walk you out."

* * *

Ben was a little surprised to get Nolan's voicemail and answers it when he gets out of an investors' meeting. "Are you all right, John?"

"Physically, fine. But I could really use another favor."

"More spying on the bad guys?" Ben queries.

"No, you did a great job, but I think we have that situation handled for now. Is there anyone staying in your guesthouse at the moment?"

"No. Getting tired of your handyman's rescue project?" Ben teases.

"Uh-uh. I still love my home and have been mysteriously freed of any suspicions of owning the contraband I found in my wall. But I have someone who needs a place to stay, and with me is bad for both of us."

"Sounds like a woman, and knowing you, John, she's in trouble. If I take her in, I hope she's better than you were at operating cappuccino machines."

"It's Grace, Ben."

"Sh*t! Old roomie, you'd better tell me what happened."


	49. Chapter 49

Restoration

Chapter 49

"You're sure Ben is OK with Oliver and me staying at his guest house?" Grace asks.

"Positive," John assures her.

"I don't want to go to a guest house," Oliver complains. "I like using Officer Nolan's drawing table."

Guilt descends on John's shoulders. "I know you do, Buddy, but I've got some wood leftover from fixing up my place. I can put together a drawing table that will fit you and your artwork perfectly. I can even make you a stool to go with it. How about that?"

"I guess that would be OK," the boy concedes.

Grace's jaw tightens as she shakes her head. "You don't have to do that, John. You've done more than enough for us."

"I know I don't, Grace. I want to. Things are going to be tough enough on you and Oliver for a while. I have pre-finished parts. Building what Oliver needs won't be a big deal. I can work on it tonight and drop it by the guest house tomorrow after my shift."

"I can at least make us a decent dinner before I go," Grace proposes.

A smile tugs at John's lips. "I can't turn down an offer like that."

* * *

Haig is getting more nervous by the minute. He did what the Derian attorneys had drilled into all of Serj and Ruben's men, demand a lawyer and shut up. The promise had always been that loyalty would be rewarded. He's known for years that the Derians' loyalty was first and foremost to themselves, but the money's always been great, and he never expected to find himself in this kind of a hole. With his ass on the line, he didn't even know who to call, so he contacted an old classmate who'd gone on to law school. He can only hope the guy is as smart now as he was in A.P. English.

The eyebrows of Brendon Fellows, attorney-at-law, leap to his hairline. "You went after Janet Jepson? You might as well have attacked the mayor. The woman is relentless and understands the law inside and out. If the prosecutor doesn't know how to go after you, she can probably tell him herself. If you have something to trade, old friend, you'd better let me make the offer."

Haig's palms press against his closed eyelids. "If I do that, you have to make protection part of the deal."

"What kind of a deal? What have you got?" Fellows presses.

"Enough to put Serj Derian away for life. I was his go-between on almost every hit he ordered and a lot of his other business too."

"Can you prove it?" Fellows pushes.

Haig's lips part in a caricature of a smile. "Serj was paranoid enough to only meet me at night someplace where the signal from a bug couldn't get out, and there were no traffic or A.T.M. cameras. But there was a camera he didn't know about, and I have the video stowed where no one else can find it. It will back up every word I say."

"If I go to the A.D.A. with that, you'd better have the goods," Fellows warns, "or we'll both be up sh*t creek."

"I have the goods," Haig assures the lawyer, "but I'll need to feel damn safe to turn them over."

* * *

"Are you with me, Boot?" Harper asks as they leave the division.

"What? Yeah, I was just wondering about the guy who attacked Janet Jepson. He didn't act like a mugger picking a random victim."

"You're right about that, Nolan," Harper agrees. "The way he followed her and waited to go after her, she was his target."

"He seemed pretty desperate about it too," Nolan adds. "With a vendor so close, the sidewalk where he grabbed her had a lot of traffic. He could have been caught even if we hadn't been nearly on top of him. Or Jepson might have taken him down herself. I wonder if her being the lawyer for those thugs who attacked Lopez had anything to do with it."

"You're the arresting officer, Boot," Harper reminds him. "There's a good chance you'll find out."

* * *

Harper's been consistently taking the most demanding calls all day, and John has the bruises to prove it. He keeps telling himself that his T.O. is working him hard for his own good. The time he lost could potentially put him behind the other rookies, or at least Jackson. Lucy also lost plenty of time recovering from her abduction. Not that anyone would ever hold it against her, but it was still a setback. Bradford's pushing her to catch up. John can't blame Harper for doing the same to him.

At least he finished Oliver's drawing table. It didn't go as fast as he thought it would. Things rarely do, but when he climbed into bed at midnight, he was satisfied that he'd crafted something to make the boy's time away from home a little easier.

John's problem is that he'd like nothing better than to crawl back between the sheets as soon as he gets home from work, but he promised to deliver the table. He's not about to disappoint Oliver, no matter how hard Harper cracked the whip. But he doesn't need to stay to talk to Grace. They'll both probably be more comfortable if he doesn't. He'll make a quick stop and hit the pillow the minute he gets home.

* * *

With an apologetic look, Grace opens the door. "John, I hate to pass this on, but Ben gave me a message for you."

"That's OK, Grace, but why didn't he just call me?"

"He had to leave for an emergency meeting in London, something about a trust, but he wanted me to show you what happened to the pergola you built for him."

John sighs. This can't be good. "All right. I'll just get Oliver's drawing table out of my truck, and you can give me the bad news."

Oliver grins as he attaches a sheet of art paper to his new table with four tiny bits of masking tape, the way Officer Nolan showed him. At least someone's happy, John silently muses as he and Grace cover the short distance to the side of the main house. She points at two broken timbers across the top of a wooden structure. "Ben was having a party. One of his guests drank too much Champagne and decided that thing was an adult version of monkey bars. He climbed up and started jumping around up there."

"The idiot could have broken his neck. Was he hurt?" John asks.

"I asked Ben the same thing. He said no, but he's hoping you can fix the damage."

John stares at the wreck, making mental notes. "It will take some doing. The wood for that project was specially cut and stained to match. I'll have to see what I can do about replacing it. It will probably have to be a custom order. I'll take some measurements tonight, but I don't know what the turnaround will be, or how much it's going to cost."

"Ben said you can still access the house maintenance account and take whatever time you need," Grace assures John.

"Fine. I'll get a laser measure out of the toolbox in my truck and get some numbers. I'll check on you and Oliver before I leave."

* * *

To John, Sergeant Grey seems to have an extra spring in his step as he strides to the front of the roll call assembly. Having barely managed to roll out of bed on time, John warily regards his watch commander. Grey looks straight at Nolan. "I have some special duty to announce. Some of you are going to be part of protection details."


	50. Chapter 50

Restoration

Chapter 50

"As some of you may have heard," Grey continues, "the actions of members of this division have enabled the D.A.'s office to put together a case against a significant criminal presence in this city. The witnesses and persons involved with this case must be protected until the facts can be established at trial.

"You might consider it ironic, but Officer Lopez and Officer West, I'm assigning you to the detail protecting Gor Roben and Davit Fakrajian. I'm counting on you being as effective guaranteeing their safety as Officer Lopez was in ensuring their arrest. You'll also be demonstrating the impartiality of the L.A.P.D. Don't disappoint me, Lopez."

"I won't, Sir," Angela assures the sergeant.

"Good. Now," Grey continues, "Bradford, due to your experience in a similar matter, you and Chen are assigned to cover A.D.A. Botts' principal witness in the case. He'll be giving you further details."

Tim and Lucy nod as Bradford confirms their assent. "Yes, Sir."

Grey stares down at John before shifting his attention to Nyla. "Detective Harper, you and Officer Nolan will be guarding a victim of Botts' witness. That witness can direct Botts to damning evidence against the primary target, and the victim's testimony is vital pressure Botts can bring to bear. You've both already been involved in protecting her from assault. You'll continue to execute that duty. The rest of you will follow normal protocols for patrol. The six on special duty see me. Everyone else is dismissed."

* * *

John knocks softly on the door of Janet's office, giving his name before she opens the door. "I just wanted to tell you that Detective Harper and I are on duty until about nine tonight, so if you feel threatened or need anything, I'll be right outside your office and she'll be in our car downstairs watching for any approaching threats."

"Are you saying you'll be standing there for the next 12 hours, Officer Nolan?" Janet asks.

"Harper will be relieving me when I need to – you know, and we'll switch off for lunch."

"Let me at least get you a chair," Janet offers, "or you could just come in and sit while I work. I can shoo you out for any confidential communications, but I'll be spending most of my time researching."

"That's very kind of you, Ms. Jepson, but I'll have to clear anything but standard procedure with my T.O."

Janet arches an eyebrow. "Officer Nolan, I tend to get to the point."

"I've noticed," Nolan responds, only partially suppressing a smile.

"So," Janet goes on, "how did a man your age end up as a rookie in the L.A.P.D.?"

"Whoo! Short answer: it was the only police force that would take me."

"I'd rather hear the longer answer, Officer Nolan," Janet requests.

"The longer answer," John considers. "My marriage fell apart. My life fell apart. I stumbled into saving someone in a bank robbery and got my head beaten in. But I loved the feeling of being able to do something useful, and learning how to be a cop helped take some of the fear away. Still working on that. Still working on a lot of things."

"Like your hypothetical damsel in distress?" Janet inquires.

The smile forces itself to John's face. "She's hypothetically moved to a castle, at least for now."

Janet's expression softens. "Glad to hear it. I will leave you to confer with Detective Harper, and if you decide to join me in the office, you're welcome. But knock again first. Otherwise, you'll have to dodge whatever I throw at the door."

"I bet your aim is deadly." John ventures. "I'll radio Harper. Maybe I'll see you again in a few minutes."

* * *

Grace knocks on the doorframe of Phyllis Lucatis' office. Finishing a call, the advocate waves her in. Phyllis tosses her cell on her desk and looks up at Grace. "I was going to call you. Your restraining order should be coming through today. Unfortunately, a court order is a stop sign, not a wall. It can't keep your husband away from you and Oliver, but it gives you redress if he shows up. You might want to stay where you feel safe until you see where things are heading."

"I will, at least for a little while," Grace acknowledges. "but I was wondering if you can refer me to a good divorce attorney."

"I know more than a few, and I'm not recommending any particular individual," Phyllis explains. "But I'll text you a list of the ones I believe you can trust."

* * *

Pacing the floor in the living room of a safe house, A.D.A. Joseph Botts regards Tim and Lucy. "Officer Bradford, Officer Chen, I can't overemphasize how essential the witness you'll be guarding is to blowing a hole in crime in this city. We would prefer not to have to transport him beyond these walls, but our case hinges on concealed damning video. He won't reveal where it is, only lead us to it based on specific guarantees. We want this operation to be under the radar. No caravans of police vehicles. Nothing to tip off any operatives who'll be watching for our witness to appear. You'll be in an unmarked car, alert for any signs we've been compromised. Your watch commander has assured me that you're capable of handling that duty, but I need to hear it from you. Are you confident you can carry out this assignment?"

"Yes, Sir!" Bradford responds immediately. Lucy echoes his assurance a moment later.

"Asshole lawyer," Bradford mutters as he slides behind the wheel of their undercover vehicle. "Botts thinks he knows what it takes to function on the streets. Unless he's been here, he doesn't have a clue. And we're not just protecting his witness; we're cover for Botts. If things go south, we'll be the first ones he'll throw under the bus. But when we get it done, he'll take the bow. Back to lesson one, Boot. What's your most important weapon?"

"My eyes," Lucy responds automatically.

"That's even more true now as it was your first week. Keep them moving every inch of the way. You see anything that feels the least bit off, don't wait to find out if you're right. React immediately. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Gor and Davit flinch almost simultaneously as they catch sight of Angela Lopez. She hooks her thumbs in her belt. "Relax, guys. Today, I'm on your side. Officer West and I are here to make sure you stay tucked up all safe and warm. So just do whatever it is that you do."

Gor and Davit look at each other before Gor speaks up. "Usually, we heat up frozen pizza and watch sports."

Jackson's nose wrinkles. "Pizza at nine o'clock in the morning?"

"Whatever keeps them happy staying put," Angela jumps in.

"And there's a replay of the Kitten Bowl," Davit adds. "I like kittens."

"Sure," Angela acknowledges. "Who doesn't?"

Jackson rolls his eyes, hoping a recount of his day doesn't leak out during roll call. The other cops will be making kitten jokes for weeks.

* * *

"What have you heard?" Serj demands of the Derian soldiers gathered in a back room at Ruben's home.

An operative takes a tentative step forward. "One of our ears at the D.A.s office picked up something about Haig and a video."

Serj lunges at him. "What kind of video?"

"Of you. The word was that it's video of you, and Haig's supposed to take them to it."

Wood paneling vibrates and cracks under assault by Serj's fist. "All of you, everyone, out there now! Whatever it takes, get that video and take out Haig. You don't, and we're all f*****g screwed.


	51. Chapter 51

Restoration

Chapter 51

"We're headed for the San Gabriel Mountains," Lucy notes unnecessarily. Tim knows every road in L.A. better than she does. But she is familiar with the area. Her parents have a cabin in Angeles Crest. Surrounded by Christian camps, it serves as a retreat to refresh and regroup from the rigors of counseling challenging patients. Lucy considered using it after her abduction but didn't want to travel that far. If Haig hid his video somewhere in the area, cops or Derian soldiers could search the woods for weeks or months and never turn up a thing. If the L.A.P.D. can't keep Haig safe, his evidence could be lost forever.

Lucy doublechecks the license plate of a vehicle up ahead. "Bradford, that truck was behind us ten minutes ago and turned off. Now it's ahead of us."

Tim slams his palm against the steering wheel. "Derian's stooges are setting up a squeeze play. They'll bring in another heavy vehicle behind us, and the guy up there will slam on the brakes. The car with Haig will be crushed, and we won't make out much better. Call dispatch for air cover. They need to spot that guy's partner so we can keep from being caught between them."

Lucy already had the radio in her hand to make the call. She's just hoping the Derians don't move in too fast.

* * *

John grins as he checks the local feed on his phone. "What's the good news, Officer Nolan?" Janet inquires. "We don't get much of it these days."

John shrugs. "Nothing that will make the evening broadcast, unless they're running a human interest story. I've been working on a project with Councilman Abbot to rebuild condemned houses for the homeless. It's in the early stages. But the mayor just put out a statement endorsing what we're doing and suggested expanding it to other parts of the city."

"Just out of curiosity, I don't suppose you started your project in an area the Derians were trying to develop?" Janet asks.

"I didn't know it at the time, but it worked out that way. Serj Derian went to a lot of trouble to take me out of the game. Something came up that frustrated his efforts, but I still don't know the details. My T.O. thinks I'll be finding out about them soon."

"I believe she's right," Janet agrees. "Will you be with me in court tomorrow?"

"That's up to my watch commander, but he doesn't usually switch off teams in the middle of an operation."

A satisfied smile sweeps over Janet's face. "Then, Officer Nolan, I think you may enjoy the assignment."

* * *

Gor raises his arms in triumph. "Touchdown, Bobcats!" He turns to Davit. "I told you not to depend on Mr. Slippers. He couldn't keep his paws on the ball."

Jackson is tempted to bury his face in his hands when Sterling appears on the screen. "Want to make sure your kitten has the winning moves? You need Kitten Kippers. Enriched with the vital oils kittens need to grow into healthy cats, serving your fur baby Kitten Kippers is always a winning play."

Jackson stares at his boyfriend's image. Sterling's always telling him that an actor has to pick up work where he finds it, but Jackson never pictured this. At least his significant other isn't pitching kitty litter. Sterling's handsome face beams from the T.V. as the Kitten Kippers jingle fills the room. Jackson grimaces as Davit belches after washing down frozen pizza with a whole bottle of cola. Still, watching two thugs can't be as hard as pretending the world revolves around kitten food. Next time Sterling brings an expensive bottle of wine to the apartment, Jackson will appreciate it that much more.

* * *

Tim and Lucy's unmarked vehicle vibrates with the whup-whup of helicopter blades. The radio comes to life. "Eighteen wheeler bearing down on your position. Leave the highway at earliest possible opportunity."

Tim's eyes sweep over the route ahead. "There's no turnoff, nothing."

Guidance from the helo crackles through the radio. "Dirt road on your right, 600 feet ahead."

Lucy points to an unmarked break in the trees. "There. The truck can't get through, and we'll have cover."

Twelve Derian soldiers crouch in the foliage, out of sight from the ground or the air. Their lieutenant smirks as two vehicles take the narrow track into the woods, forced to halt as it dead ends. Ruben was smart. He set a trap, and the cops just drove Haig right into it.

The hair on Bradford's neck rises as he peers into the surrounding greenery. Their escape was too f*****g easy. A blast of static pours from the radio. "Damn! They're using jammers. Try your phone."

Lucy thumbs the switch and stares at the indicator on her screen. "No bars."

"Try anyway," Tim orders.

She attempts to reach the vehicle transporting Haig before calling dispatch. "Nothing."

Slight motions in greenery unconnected to any breeze catch Tim's attention. "Chen, Derian's hitters are flanking us. Our first responsibility is to protect the witness. If they move on him, we'll have to move on them, but we'll be exposed the second we leave the vehicle. Can you crawl into the back seat and flip it down to get to our large arms in the trunk?"

Lucy is already moving before she confirms, forcing herself between the front seats of the nondescript sedan. The rear seatback resists release but snaps forward under her determined tug. She crawls into the trunk and hands the weaponry stored there back to Tim.

* * *

Nell raps on Grey's door but charges in without invitation. "Sir, air cover lost visual contact with the protective detail guarding Botts' witness. Bradford and Chen are part of it. The helicopter was over a wooded area off Angeles Crest Highway. Dispatch hasn't been able to reach them either, and neither has the D.A.'s office."

Grey springs from his chair. "Keep trying to make contact. I'll enlist some local help. What was the last report Dispatch received from our officers?"

"That they suspected they might be under attack and were making an evasive maneuver."

Grey grabs his phone. "I hope they don't have to do more than evade."

* * *

Tim spots what looks like the top of a man's head behind a new-growth pine tree. Light flashes from the ring on a raised fist. "They're getting ready to make a move. grab a rifle," he commands Lucy. "Get ready to exit the car. Stay low and as invisible as possible, but we can't allow them to reach their target. Follow my lead."

As he spots a surge of motion, Tim pushes open the door of his vehicle, just enough to slip out as Lucy mirrors his action. The two cops crawl along the forest floor. For the first time, Lucy wishes for her rookie long sleeves as shed evergreen needles penetrate the skin of her forearms. She can feel rather than see, the forces moving in on their target.

"Still nothing on the radio?" Botts asks.

"No, Sir," the operative riding shotgun in the vehicle responds.

"You have a f*****g leak!" Haig insists. "Serj's men, maybe Ruben's too, are out there. They let us drive right into a hole, and now they're going to bury us."

"Shut up!" Botts orders. He was warned that Del Monte wasn't the only bad apple in the office and busted his ass to keep this trip under wraps. People lose cell service in the mountains all the time, and radio reception can be spotty. Haig might be spooking at nothing, but Botts' gut doesn't believe it. Metal glints from behind trees. Haig's right. Derian soldiers are out there. The A.D.A. can only hope that the officers from Mid-Wilshire are out there too.


	52. Chapter 52

Restoration

Chapter 52

"Boot, we can never let ourselves run out of ammunition at the same time," Tim cautions Lucy. "When the Derians' men move on the suspect's vehicle, I'll lay down fire to keep them back. When I stop, you start while I reload. Then I'll take over again. We have to keep them pinned down, or better yet, take them out. Aim for the center of mass if you can, but keep up the pressure."

"What happens when we both run out of rounds?" Lucy demands.

"If you can shoot as well here as you do on the range, we'll have them down before then. But make every shot count. We've got to hang in until we get some backup. The crew in the helicopter know we lost touch. They'll report it. Whoever is closest will be coming. We hold the line until they get here. Are you ready?"

Lucy's hands curl around her weapon. "I have to be."

Tim surveys the wall of closely spaced trees, searching for any signs of movement. His eyes detect a tiny flash. It's not a reflection from a gun barrel or a scope. He could recognize those in his sleep. It isn't from the ring he saw before, either. It could be a wristwatch. For some reason, the Derians' soldiers like expensive timepieces, or at least what gives the appearance of the high-priced articles. eBay is full of knockoffs. There it is again! Someone is raising a rifle to his eyes. As seconds thud like lead weights, Tim waits for a viable target. There! A man is half-visible behind what would make a great Christmas tree. Tim's target gets off a shot, sending a shower of splinters as the bullet shatters a nearby branch. Tim doesn't miss.

For a moment, the scene is frozen, before the Derians' thugs charge forward, shooting. Tim looses a stream of bullets at them, whispering to Lucy as he fires his last one. "Now, Chen!"

As Lucy picks up Tim's rhythm, two more Derian men fall, before Tim takes over again. The faint sound of sirens rises in pitch as local law enforcement tears down the highway toward the battle. Tim and Lucy each have one more magazine. More gunmen are coming at them. For Lucy, time is moving in slow motion. As each Derian operative exposes himself enough to fire, Tim shoots. Lucy can see blood staining her T.O.s sleeve. She can feel the skin at her waist burning. A graze? She doesn't know but can't worry about it now. At Tim's last shot, there is nothing but her weapon between the attackers and what she is sworn to protect. As backup screeches in and feet thunder through the trees, another assassin falls to the needle-sharp ground. Lucy can barely quash the impulse to demand what took the new arrivals so damn long.

* * *

White-knuckled, with less than dry pants, Haig gazes around the now quiet woods. He turns to Botts. "If you think that after what just happened, I'm going to lead you to the video, you're crazy."

Botts' eyes blaze. "If you think that after the L.A.P.D. put everything on the line to protect you, you're not coming up with that evidence, you're the one who's crazy. You're going to take me, and you're going to take me now, or you'll spend the rest of your life in a hole so deep you'll never see the sun again."

* * *

Lucy dangles her legs over the edge of the examining table as Grace checks the dressing applied by a medic at the scene of the shootout. "Good job. If you notice redness or swelling, let me know, but it looks like you're good to go. I doubt you'll even have much of a scar."

"How's Bradford?" Lucy asks.

"I can't give you details; you know that. But he'll be all right in a couple of days. He wants to go back to work right now."

"That sounds like Tim."

"Well, if he wants to object to sitting out a couple of shifts, he'll have to plead his case to Sergeant Grey. I wish him luck with that."

Lucy grins. "He'll need more than luck."

* * *

John's order for wood for Ben's pergola came in faster than he expected. His duty guarding Janice Jessup hadn't exactly been grueling. If anything, after hearing what Lucy and Tim went through that afternoon, he has nervous energy desperate for an outlet.

He can pick up the load of lumber and start installing it. Since it's already cut to length, he might even finish the job that evening, especially if he manages to avoid any interaction with Grace. He wouldn't mind saying hello to Oliver, but communication with the boy's mother won't be good for either of them. He'll get the work done and take off.

* * *

While his mom checks some of his homework, Oliver looks up at the sound of a power tool. "That must be Officer Nolan fixing Mr. McCree's wood thing. Can I go see him? I have a picture I want to show him."

"All right," Grace agrees, "but he has work to do. Don't take too much of his time."

"I won't," Oliver promises and runs to get his creation from the drawing table John made for him. Grace figures that she can take Oliver over to the damaged pergola, wave, and say hello. Her son can carry on from there. If he distracts John from his task too much, she'll remind him he has assignments to finish.

John looks down from his perch to see Oliver bounding his way, proudly grasping a sheet of drawing paper. Grace is trailing behind him, but she doesn't look too happy about it. John climbs down his ladder, jumping the last few feet to the ground. "A new piece of art, Buddy? Let me see."

"It's the ocean," Oliver explains, puffing out his small chest. "See, there's a boat out there."

John studies the boy's rendering. Oliver has yet to learn anything about perspective, but that will come. He's still years ahead of where John was at his age.

Grace puts a hand on her son's shoulder. "Oliver, you still have spelling and math."

"I don't need spelling and math. I'm going to draw!" Oliver argues.

Frowning, John pulls several folded sheets of paper from his back pocket. "Oliver, look at these. They're plans for this pergola. But they're not just drawings. See the numbers? Those are dimensions, what size everything has to be to fit together right. And down here, this is the bill of materials. It lists everything you need for a project. You have to be able to spell to write one. Even if you spend a lot of your time drawing, you have to learn other things too."

Oliver traces his index finger over the lines on the paper. "Can you do all this stuff?"

"If I couldn't, I would never have been able to support my family. I have to measure and write to be a police officer too. And I also have studying to do. There's always something else to learn. If we miss anything, the bad guys get away."

Oliver nods slowly. "OK, Officer Nolan. I'll go work on my homework now."

John watches as Grace leads her son back to the guest house. She needs someone to back her up with Oliver the way he just did. Ideally, that should be Eric, but that's not going to happen. Maybe Oliver's talent will help him survive having an asshole for a father. Perhaps Grace will come out of the divorce better for the journey. For Oliver and Grace's sake, John hopes so.


	53. Chapter 53

Restoration

Chapter 53

On the alert for any threat to Janet, John watches as Gor and Davit are brought into the courtroom. He's become accustomed to court procedures, paying little attention to the formalities until Gor and Davit elocute as part of their plea agreement. Much of it comes as no surprise. They attacked Lopez, an officer in the L.A.P.D. That crime led to their arrest, but Janet catches John's eye before Davit describes another offense.

"Mr. Roben and I were assigned as lookouts while an individual known to us as Haig planted money and drugs in a home. Haig informed us that the man who owned the home was an officer in the L.A.P.D. who was interfering with Serj Derian's business. We later understood that the attack on Officer Lopez concerned the same business."

John's mouth drops open. No wonder Janet told him that he'd enjoy what he heard in court. Her clients confirmed that he'd been framed. That had to be the evidence that prodded Grey and Commander West to allow John to go back to work.

"I owe you big time," John whispers as he accompanies Janet from the courtroom.

"You've been doing your job, Officer Nolan. I've been doing mine. But now that my clients' case has been adjudicated, you can buy me a beer sometime, and we'll call it even."

"I'm off duty at seven. Are you free tonight?" John asks.

"Unless something comes up in the meantime, I am. I can get a call at any time."

John nods. "That, we have in common."

* * *

On a rare day off from the hospital, with Oliver in school, Grace sits in her car, gazing up at her apartment. She has her restraining order, as well as a notice that a copy was delivered to Eric. That still doesn't mean it's safe for her to go home, or have Oliver there with her.

The boy is in no hurry to return. He loves Ben McCree's guest house. When he's not at the drawing desk John built for him, he's staring at the ocean or building sandcastles on one of their trips to the beach. But she can't impose on Ben's largesse forever. She could never afford the rent on a place like that or pay her landlord in chores the way John did when he lived there. She'll have to leave, either to come back to this apartment or find another one. She could negotiate an end to her lease. With the steady rise in rents, any real estate agent could get more for the place than she's paying. But then she'd have to find another one she can afford.

She should move back. Oliver will settle in, and she can get an upgraded security system. John could probably help with that if she asks him or she can get a recommendation from someone else on the force.

A third option pokes at her. She could leave the city. Many rural areas will do and pay almost anything to attract doctors, especially emergency doctors. She could get a bigger place with room for Oliver to play at a lower rent. She could even buy one. It would mean uprooting both of them again, but she'd spend a lot less time looking over her shoulder. She has to decide soon, but can't this minute. She needs to do some heavy research before even considering that lifechanging a choice. Her hand goes automatically to the ignition and her foot to the accelerator. It's time to get moving.

* * *

Sitting side by side with Attorney General Heifer, Botts screens the most impactful clips his staff extracted so far from Haig's reluctantly turned over video. Even that limited evidence implicates Serj Derian in enough protection rackets, drug deals, and murders to put him away for multiple life terms. Unfortunately, at this point, none of it concerns Ruben Derian. To wipe out the family business, they need connections to both brothers.

"How soon before your people have scanned all the footage?" Heifer asks.

Botts shakes his head. "Days at least. I don't have enough eyeballs to assign to this."

"I'll get you more," Heifer promises. "Taking down the Derian family will blast at least 25% of the dirt from this city. And you said that cop they tried to frame was cleared?"

"Completely," Botts confirms. "But we believe the Derians still have eyes in the L.A.P.D."

Heifer grunts. "We're going to have to keep this operation as far under wraps as possible."

"Yes, Sir," Botts acknowledges, "but we have a few officers who've proved we can trust them, starting with two who just saved my ass, the cop Serj tried to have killed, and the cop he tried to frame."

"Then we draft them for a special task force, but we do it quietly. Nothing leaks to the Derians until our team has gone over every second of that video."

* * *

Tim can't believe that he's being allowed to return to duty, even if it's for some hush-hush detail off the street. He'll have Chen with him and can continue her training wherever they are. The principles will be the same.

When the partners walk into a nondescript conference room in a hotel, they find Nolan already there. Janet had a last-minute conflict the night before, and getting down to work distracts him from disappointment. Lopez comes through the door a moment later. "Anyone know what's going on?" Nolan asks, looking around.

Heads shake simultaneously before a voice comes from the speaker in the middle of the table. "You are all here because you are among the few members of the L.A.P.D. the D.A.'s office has full confidence will not communicate with the Derian organization in any way. You will each be assigned segments of video recordings that implicate Serj Derian. However, Serj Derian is not the object of your investigation. You're looking for evidence against his brother Ruben.

"We need any mention, any reference to Ruben at all, tying him to Serj Derian's criminal activities. On the credenza, you'll find laptops each marked with your badge number and biometrically keyed to the print of your index fingers. The video is already loaded. You can use the attached restroom when you need it. Meals will be delivered to you by a hotel staff member who will knock and leave them on a cart outside. We expect you to work through the end of your shifts and return at the beginning of your shifts in the morning. Do not discuss your work with anyone outside that room. I'll need an affirmation from each of you that you will be bound by the rules and restrictions of this assignment. Answer with, 'I will. Officer Bradford."

"I will."

"Officer Chen."

"I will."

"Officer Lopez."

"I will."

"Officer Nolan."

"I will."

"Very well," the voice continues, "all of you will be moving this city toward a new and better era. Godspeed."

"Anyone know who that was?" John asks as he picks up his laptop.

"Yeah, I recognize that voice," Angela responds. "I heard him go on for an hour and a half at a lawyer's thing Wesley took me to. It was the District Attorney, Heifer. This is a big deal."

"I feel like we were just at a weird wedding, but at least no one's shooting at us," Lucy points out.

"Boot," Tim admonishes her, "never assume that you can ever let down your guard on any assignment."

Lucy sighs, taking her laptop back to her seat. "Yes, Sir, Officer Bradford."

* * *

Nyla surveys West from head to toe as he loads their equipment into her shop. Despite being Commander West's son, he's the lowest-ranked of the rookies at Mid-Wilshire. It's frustrating to be stuck with him when she should be putting the final polish on Nolan. But she'll take what she's given and do the best with it she can. At least with her golden ticket, she doesn't have to worry about pissing off her new boot's father.


	54. Chapter 54

Restoration

Chapter 54

Nolan scans the crowd at the bar for Janet. One advantage of hunching over a computer all day, even if it did kill his shoulders, is he is on time to meet her. Hopefully, she'll be the same. He spots her at a table near the dartboard, watching the competition between Smitty and Wrigley. From the expression on her face, she's not impressed with either player.

John's not surprised. Of the cops at Mid-Wilshire, they're the least impressive, and not just at darts. But every profession has its slackers, and even those two score a decent arrest once in a while. He hopes he'll still have his enthusiasm for the job when he's been a cop as long as they have. That's assuming that his eyes and mind still focus when he gets there. Making detective in five years would be a damn good start if he can pull it off.

He catches Janet's eye and waves before joining her at her table. "Been waiting long?"

"Watching those two, it seems like a long time," Janet admits. "But I got here about five minutes ago. No one's given me that stare that means order or find another place to hang out yet."

"Good, I'll make sure they don't," John offers. "What's your pleasure?"

"Other than a night not spent going over case notes? A boilermaker."

John flinches.

"Don't tell me you were expecting me to go for a cosmopolitan. I'm not Carrie Bradshaw, John."

Air whistles through John's pursed lips. "Whew! Thank God you're not. It's just that my father drank boilermakers, and he wasn't a great person to be around when he did. I avoided him when I could, except to distract him from my mother. Nothing she or I could ever do was right. He took off when I was a kid, leaving us without a dime. But it wasn't the booze; it was the man. He could have been drinking club soda, and he still would have been an asshole." John shakes his head. "I don't know why I told you that. I never told anyone in the department about my dad. I guess I don't want anyone thinking I'd be like him."

"John, I don't believe I could picture you like that if I tried. You're a classic guardian. You can't keep from wading in to help."

"That's what my T.O. says, but she doesn't mean it as a compliment," John confides.

"I do, but you promised me a drink, and I still want a boilermaker."

"Far be it from me to renege on a promise, especially to a savvy attorney," John declares. "I'll be right back."

Janet watches Nolan approach the bar. If anything, he looks even better from the back in his civilian clothes than he did in his uniform. She couldn't miss the callouses on his hands. His build comes from physical labor, lots of it. He had to be in shape to make it through the academy, but that kind of muscle takes years to develop. Finding it on a body that also has a lot going on between the ears is almost irresistible.

John returns with a beer and a shot for Janet and a beer for himself as Smitty's dart hits the wall. "Pretty hopeless, huh? I've never known anyone who glories so much in lowering the bar. But then no one expects much from him. I think Grey gives him easy duty because he's afraid he'll mess up anything else. Our watch commander's spent most of my rookie year, giving the tough assignments to me so I would screw up."

"But you wrecked his plans."

"I got lucky, but he still could bounce me."

"I doubt it was luck, John. My guess is you worked your ass off. So, how long until the end of your probation?"

"About a month. I think it will be the longest month in history."

"I have a feeling you'll come through just fine. And when you do," Janet promises, "I'll be buying you a beer."

Laugh lines fan from John's eyes. "I'll look forward to that."

"But in the meantime," Janet proposes, it looks like the Keystone Kops are finished with the board. How about a game?"

John raises his beer in a toast. "You're on!"

For about a minute, John considers going easy on Janet. But it becomes apparent that it would be like sparring with Lucy. One wrong move and he's flat on his back. Janet doesn't do anything to lose, and he doubts she'd respect him if he did either.

It takes aim trained on the range by merciless taskmaster Nyla Harper for John to win the competition, and he doesn't beat Janet by much. "Good game, Officer Nolan," Janet admits. "Do you shoot as straight as you throw a dart?"

John shrugs, shaking his head. "Not if you ask my T.O. But she is always driving home the point that a miss can be fatal. For most of the last two decades, a miss meant no more to me than a sore thumb. I hammered a lot of nails. I still do."

"Right," Janet recalls, "the rehab project that caused Serj Derian to come after you."

"Yes, and I rehabbed a house I bought out of foreclosure. That's what gave me the idea. I built my house in Pennsylvania from the ground up, but I had to sell it as part of my divorce settlement. For better or worse, this one is all mine. I get to keep it, and what I've built with the L.A.P.D., in no small measure due to you."

"I just made my clients do what was best for them. That it got you out of a hole was a side effect. But you're welcome. I don't meet many men who put things together, John. Usually, they either spend their time pushing paper or tearing things apart. I'd like to see what you built sometime."

John checks his watch. "We could go now. It's been long enough since I drank my beer for my alcohol level to be close to zero. I can show you my home if you really want to see it, and bring you back to your car later."

"Always aware of the rules, I see, Officer Nolan. For the record, I don't drive if I'm over the limit either. Even if getting caught wouldn't mean blowing my credibility and my career, I've seen too many tragedies, including one in my own family. So, show me the works of those talented hands."

For a moment, John wonders if Janet is still talking about construction. At the same moment, so does she.

* * *

Ruben Derian slams his fist against the wall of his over-furnished office. His brother is in deep sh*t, and right now, he can't see any way to get him out of it. But depending on what came out of Serj's mouth on the video the D.A.'s office has, Ruben could be circling the drain himself. Botts and the politically ambitious Heifer have slammed the lid on tight. The most any of Ruben's sources could get was that there is a secret team going over the footage word by word. He doesn't know where and he doesn't know how.

Aside from Serj, Haig is the only one who knows if Ruben is in danger or not. Ruben's got to get to one of them somehow. After the miserable failure in the woods, security around them is almost impenetrable – but only almost. Ruben still has sleepers he can activate. The men's noses have been clean for a hell of a long time. The hard part will be getting them to cooperate, but Ruben has a few ideas about making that happen.


	55. Chapter 55

Restoration

Chapter 55

Taking in the details of John's five-cent tour of his home, Janet can't help noticing how masculine all the furnishings are. The only exception is the shoe rack in the walk-in closet, which he confesses was an ex-girlfriend's idea. The browns and beiges say no woman looked at color swatches. But the small house is homey and comforting. She wouldn't mind spending time here at all, but the present timing is not terrific. She's rarely slept with a cop and never one under the pressure of succeeding in his rookie year. She also has to be in court tomorrow morning and he told her that he has to be up early for an unspecified special assignment.

"Want some coffee?" John offers. "The stuff at the station is pretty awful, so I invested in a decent machine for myself. My son's fiancée is a bit of a coffee connoisseur. She recommended the beans. They're not bad. And I've got cookies. You like peanut butter? I got them for, um, the hypothetical kid."

"As long as the sweetness isn't hypothetical. A night out should stick to the four food groups," Janet declares, "alcohol, fat, sugar, and caffeine."

"That sounds like sacrilege in California, home of sushi and kale," John quips.

"I'm California born and raised. I'm fine with sushi, and salad lunches are great for not leaving grease stains while I'm working, but I can't stand kale," Janet confesses. "To me, it's like someone crossbred lettuce and chewing gum."

John chuckles. "I've never heard that description before, but it's not my favorite either. You can't see it at night, but I put in a garden out back. Lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, and zucchini, but no kale."

Janet's face lights in what looks to be an unaccustomed smile. "Thank God. I'd hate to think that my state ruined you."

"Going by what happened lately, it came close, but so far, no exploding cigar. Thanks, really, thanks, counselor."

"Officer Nolan, you are very welcome."

* * *

The parking lot of the Redline Bar and Grill has few lights, but the customers like it that way. They can conduct their business and come and go as they please with no cameras or prying eyes. Ruben pulls into the darkest corner and waits. He can barely see the man who approaches the car, but the voice is familiar, if shaky. "What do you want, Derian?"

"I need you to do what I tell you. You've been putting on your righteous act for so long; I think you're beginning to believe it. But I know your history. I heard about the dropped guns and planted evidence. We both know that with the information I can leak, the commissioner can hang you by your balls. And with your job, very few of your brothers in blue would feel sorry for you."

Sweat dampens the veteran cop's collar. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Haig's already screwed over my brother. I want to know if I'm next. If Botts has anything on me, a sentence, a word, I need to hear about it." Through his car window, Ruben grabs his mole by the shoulder. "You're going to find out for me."

The terrified cop shakes loose. "How the hell do you expect me to do that?"

Derian shrugs. "I don't give a crap how you do it. Plant a bug. Wear a wire. Beat it out of someone. You used to be good at that. Just get it done, and get it done by tomorrow night. In 24 hours, you will meet me here with what I want to know, or you'll be in deeper sh*t than Serj."

"Twenty-four hours isn't enough!"

"It will have to be. Twenty-four hours or the bottom falls out for you, and it won't go so well for your family, either. Now get the f**k out of here!"

Sweating, the cop gets behind the wheel of a dark S.U.V. He's tempted to drive the damn thing into a tree, but that won't help his family.

* * *

Grey looks up as Commander Percy West knocks on the door of his office. He's seen a lot of the head of Internal Affairs in the past few months, but not much since Nolan was cleared. The sergeant rises as his superior enters the room. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Just tying up a few odds and ends regarding Nolan's case. I didn't see him on the patrol roster. Several of the other officers connected with the Derian case aren't there either. Where are they?"

Grey leans on his desk. "Special operation for the D.A.'s office. The details are need to know, and apparently, I don't need to know."

"You're their watch commander. You should be entitled to know," Percy insists.

"Only when they're under my supervision, which for this particular assignment they're not. What can I say, Commander? The orders came from the top, and that's all I can tell you."

"Can you get in touch with those officers if necessary?" Percy asks.

"Honestly, I don't know. I was instructed that short of a national emergency, I'm not supposed to try. Their complete reports on anything having to do with Serj Derian are on record, Commander. I can assign someone to help you go through them. Detective Calderone is very familiar with the investigations. Shall I call her in?"

Percy mentally crosses his fingers that Calderone will come up with something he can use. "Thanks, Grey. I'd appreciate it."

With an arm full of files, Calderone meets West in the conference room. "Commander, I brought everything we have that's connected with Serj Derian and his frame of Officer Nolan, but I don't understand what else you need to know. Two of Serj Derian's soldiers testified that he planted the money and drugs in Officer Nolan's home. Their attorney, Janet Jepson, gave that to A.D.A. Botts to negotiate a deal for her clients. They confirmed their story in court. I just got the transcript. I can make you a copy."

"Thanks, Calderone. That will button up Nolan's file. But what I'd really like to know is if Ruben Derian was implicated in any way. We've had indications of his influence over some members of the L.A.P.D., but if he was involved in Nolan's case, I could use that information."

Rita pulls the top sheets out of a folder. "I'll run this off for you, but I haven't seen anything mentioning Ruben. All of Serj's orders went through an individual known as Haig, who turned over his evidence to A.D.A. Botts. They both almost got killed in the process. So did officers Lucy Chen and Tim Bradford."

"Are Bradford and Chen back on patrol?" West inquires.

Neither one of them was at roll call. Nolan and Lopez weren't either. The rumor is that they were tagged for some special detail with the D.A.'s office, but you know how rumors are, Commander. Someone hears a couple of words and fills in the gaps."

"I understand, Detective. Get me that transcript, and I'll be out of your hair. Thank you for your help.

"Bradford, Chen, Lopez, and Nolan," Percy mutters to himself as he climbs behind the wheel of his assigned vehicle. Those are the four cops least likely to be in bed with the Derians. Botts has to know that. If he wanted someone that he could trust to go through Haig's evidence, that's who he'd pull in. The D.A.'s office, hell, maybe even Heifer himself might be thinking along the same lines. If Percy can get a line on just one of those cops, it could lead him to that evidence. Jackson rooms with Lucy Chen. If anyone would know where she is, he would. West can't see Jackson's interim T.O., whoever that is, objecting to a commander meeting up with his rookie son for a quick bite. All Percy has to do is ask dispatch for Jackson's location.


	56. Chapter 56

Restoration

Chapter 56

"I don't care who your father is, Boot," Nyla declares. "You get as much time for lunch as you'd get any other day, and if we get a call, we take it."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jackson agrees, secretly hoping the call comes. "Some of what he heard about his father still rumbles around in his brain. He knows the con who made the accusations was playing him, but that doesn't mean none of it was true. He's learned the signs of liars. They're usually short on details. Jackson heard too many of those.

Percy taps on his horn as Jackson's shop approaches, with Nyla Harper at the wheel. She's spent years immersing herself in false personas. If there's anyone who could see through his act, it would be Harper. Fortunately, he plans to talk to Jackson alone.

Percy stakes out a high two-person outdoor table at a nearby taco stand, as Jackson comes toward him. Even if Harper had a mind to join them, she wouldn't find room. And she doesn't seem to have the inclination. She's heading for the sandwich joint next door.

When Percy opens his arms, Jackson delivers a nervous hug. "What's going on, Dad? Is everything all right with Mom? Is Marshall OK?"

"They're both fine," Percy assures his son. "I just thought with you and the other rookies coming into the final stretch, you could use a little pep talk."

Jackson backs off. "Because I got the lowest exam grade?"

"No, Son, because you're still in the race, and you need to make your final kick. You don't need to worry about Chen and Nolan, just about the cop you want to be. But where are they? They weren't on the patrol roster this morning."

Jackson shrugs. "I haven't seen Nolan, and Lucy said she couldn't talk about her assignment. She just told me she'd have to fight the traffic because she's taking her own car. That's got to be a pain. That pile of junk only runs because Nolan keeps fixing it for her."

"I heard Nolan is good with his hands. But rehabbing that old house he bought nearly ended his career."

"That wasn't Nolan's fault. That was Serj Derian. The whole division knows it. I think by now, most of the cops in the city have heard how Derian tried to frame Nolan. And Lucy and Bradford almost got killed, making sure the D.A. could take Derian down."

"Chen must be proud of the way that worked out for her."

"I guess. But she didn't seem that proud of getting her special assignment, whatever it is. At this point, she'd rather be on the street. We all would. And I need to get my order fast. I should get back to the shop before Harper finishes her sandwich."

"I understand, Son," Percy allows. "Make your push."

Jackson slides off his perch. "I'm planning on it."

Percy checks the D.M.V. for a plate and description of Lucy Chen's car and puts out a BOLO. He'll have to explain his inquiries later, but first, he has to survive. When a marked unit spots the vehicle at a downtown hotel, he requests no further action. He doesn't need any. He knows the Vanderlyn. The D.A.'s office uses it for below the radar operations. So Heifer is assigning officers there. For what? He can find out. In uniform, an L.A.P.D. commander can easily get past the hotel staff. He checks his watch. He's running out of time. Getting the answers Ruben wants is going to be tight if he can do it at all. But at least now he knows where to look.

* * *

When Nell signals from the doorway of his office, Grey waves for her to come in. "Is Lucy Chen in trouble, Sir?"

"Not that I know of. What makes you think she is?"

"Because I recognized a BOLO that went out for her car. It was the same as the one we put out when she was abducted."

"Probably a mistake. Who put it out?"

"That's what bothers me, Sir. It was Commander West, about a half-hour after he called for a location on Officer West. Maybe after talking to Jackson, the commander thought Lucy might have a problem."

Drawing a breath, Grey nods. "I suppose that's possible. All right. Thanks, Ms. Forrester. I'll look into it."

* * *

Assuming the air of authority of a unit chief, Percy strides into the Vanderlyn Hotel. Other than Chen's car in the parking lot, the place doesn't have much to recommend it. The elevators afford no outdoor views. The décor is unexciting, and there's not a celebrity in sight. It's just the sort of place that Percy himself would pick for an operation away from prying eyes. No doubt, the D.A. had similar thoughts.

The Vanderlyn has 26 floors, but only two of them hold meeting rooms. Those have to be where Heifer is staging his secret operation. Percy takes the stairs. He'll have enough trouble explaining the BOLO on Chen's car. The last thing he needs is to be caught on an elevator camera.

Percy checks the rooms on the mezzanine first. They're all devoted to training sessions for local businesses. No secret operations there. Nearby tables hold literature and a few unclaimed badges. He checks the floor above. The rooms are smaller, and there are more of them. Most have the names of the organizations using them on placards near the doors.

The sign near the Cherry Room is blank, except for declaring occupancy until seven p.m. A cart with the remains of four meals sits outside the door. "Nolan, Lopez, Bradford, and Chen," Percy murmurs to himself. "They'll be in there until seven o'clock." That will still give Percy five hours before his meeting with Ruben to get something out of the covert group of cops – or out of the room they were in. It's a shot, not a good one, but a shot.

It's time to go cover his tracks. To explain the BOLO and his questions to Jackson, he can start an inquiry on Chen. His excuse will be checking that she's genuinely fit for duty after her near-death experience. It's thin, but I.A. has surveilled cops before with less reason. He'll set the stage and be back at the Vanderlyn in time.

Percy's cell buzzes when he's halfway down the stairs to the lobby. Damn, it's Grey. Is the sergeant checking on him? He lets the call go to voicemail, commander's privilege. In a few hours, he'll be able to explain his activities to Grey or anyone else who asks. He can make this work. He has to.

* * *

Vainly massaging a kink in his neck, Nolan rewinds the last few seconds of video he's been watching. He thought he heard the name Ruben, but it was barely audible beneath the noise from a car engine. He turns up the sound to listen again while observing the motion of Serj Derian's mouth. He's no lip reader, but the pucker that goes with voicing an "ooh" sound is hard to miss. He plays it several times and picks up a further reference to "my brother." "Hey guys," he calls across the table. "You should double-check me, but I think I have something."

Lucy, Tim, and Angela look on as John replays the few incriminating seconds of sound through the laptop's tinny speaker. "You got it, John," Angela confirms. "But we still have to finish going through everything. There may be more. I don't know about you all, but I'm hyped to get out of here tonight."

"You said it," John agrees. "I'll even be glad to see Grey's scowling face in the morning."


End file.
